(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.
(Written in Europe)
Winter winds pierced me like a sharp sword,