I once told the story of my Life
That which was true in truce
Never been so humiliated as
what I saw the other day
When she scamper in his jar
Who told you that I was not able
to get his fame, titles and pride?
I left them for an academics tour
Even when I came calling you in vain
My gospel were true from distant past
You repent not as though I was unworthy
Someday when my words comes to light
You will be left in Golgotha of scorn
To be carried in your wooden thoughts
Nailing down your sins aloft your pride
I bet you Miss Thatcher karma is a Butcher
He always comes calling for his pound of flesh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem