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Winter winds pierced me like a sharp sword

(Written in Europe)

Winter winds pierced me like a sharp sword,
And London fog greeted my accustomed dawn.

I was sometimes society’ sparkling toast,
At other times a mystifying recluse.

I pondered on the ills of life around me:
The worker, too, will turn a tyrant in power.

Whether imperial power or democracy’s farce,
Tyranny results when church and state are divorced.

Immortal Rome’s grandeur and decay
Reminded me of Delhi’s glorious past.

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