gulab khandelwal selected poems

I had committed that sin in childishness.

That I made an wounded bird run limping on its legs
And tore off its wings.
That I stole the gems out of the bag of an old woman,
Finding her asleep.
Every thing happened as if in a dream.
If you ask me,
I can burn myself in fire hundreds of times,
Bear the torture of a thousand deaths
To atone for that.
Oh, tell me,
What should I do to get rid of that impulsive sin.