When God came to me last night
looking wan and sat downcast by my bedside
tell me, did I speak any thing? did I really say anything?
Did I mention to Him about the promising boy
so full of hope, and after failing in everything,
took away his life out of hunger?
Did I speak about the young damsel
who dragged out her life selling her youth,
got tired of it, and one fine evening committed suicide?
Did I unveil the heart-break of the granny
who jumped into the river
hearing the news of her son’s death in the war with China?
Did I brief Him about the agony of the peoples
or about the acrid smell of time burning
in Congo, Cuba, Cyprus and Laos.
Tell me, tell me honestly
did I ask Him anything about you, or me
or about the decadence of the world
Or did I compel, blame or accost Him
to speak about the venom
that filled the serene comely hearts.
I know I know where lies the weakest link in the chain
I know I know
That’s why, when I saw the pitiful tears
rolling down his cheeks
in the reflection of the lamp,
I got up suddenly seized with compassion,
embraced Him, dried His tears, and consoled
and bade Him good bye,
escorting him up to the turn of the street.
I know I know
When man turns out to be a Satan
Poor old man! what can He do?
After all, he is His own making.
…
అనువాదలహరి 
స్పందించండి