From where he can look not behind,
From where he can return not?
Where, where, have they brought him to
Luring with spirit and alcohol,
Hemlock, hemp, country liquor and marijuana,
Oh, those peddlers, drug-traffickers!
If he cannot, he may try native and cheaper stuffs,
Ganja, bhang or datura seeds as for intoxication,
Piping in, smoking ganja from an earthen pipe,
Taking bhang leaves paste.
Intoxication should anyhow,
But they know it not,
What they are doing
And where will this joy lead to?
Life is not so coloured and painted
As the dramas show,
The theatre not the all
And the hippies not the role-models.
I can read the emotions and feelings of the drug-addict
Lying naked into the hills
Posing to be a sadhaka,
Wanting to cut his hand and to plant on a tree as for branching.
My God, save us from bootleggers, drug-traffickers
Selling not to serve, but to destroy,
To give coloured bottles is to make dream,
Not to spoil life!