(14-2-1957 / Tamilnadu, India)

Sonnet: God Improves Things

At last, the day has come for the accursed,
When shift they must, their trade to newer site;
This place is free from all its troubles nursed,
And swiftly God improves the people’s plight.

The tiger’s back into its own forest;
Its monetary roars have seen its end;
They can now move freely, the men honest;
To tyrants, none need bend or condescend!

Corruption will be at its newer ebb;
Maybe, tiger-cubs could now rule the place!
The people will not fall into their web
Of activity, clandestine in base.

The world could be better; oh, what pleasure!
Justice and truth triumphs; oh, what treasure!

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