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by Kumud Biswas
||I went, I saw and I conquered
An empire for Rome
But here at home
Those scheming scoundrels
And those senile senators
Good at nothing
But howling in the senate house,
Their last resort,
On comfortable cushioned seats
Where they usually sleep and doze
Or scowl at each other,
Now in servile fearfulness
Have lost their sleep
To plot against me
Employing all their ruses
To rouse the plebeian rabble
Accustomed only to be ruled
Be it by republican rowdies
Or by a Rex.
I have seen them often
Those pettifogging demagogues
The pigmies on a podium
At the monument’s base
In the big meadow or market place
Yelling at the top of their small voice
Against a fictitious foe
Promising a paradise to all the pigs,
Those groundlings roaring and relishing
Any rotten thing that is thrown before them.
I have ignored them always
For these howling humbugs are so small
Much beneath the sweep of my broad sword,
All their heroics are only in rhetorics hollow,
Even in a scuffle not to speak of a fight
They are the first to flee.
But have I ignored them long?
For now I find my friend in their midst
That noble man, the scion of a noble line,
Who sits high in people’s hearts,
Now frustrated fruitlessly trying
To make men of those plebeian pigs
Who always contented lie
Wallowing in their ugly sties.
Have the flatterer’s smooth tongues
Made him believe
Same is their aim—
Not to accuse the stars
Not to be underlings?
My trustful friend, if only you knew
How vile is this villainous lot
Envious of anything great
In their efforts to vilify me
Themselves incapable of any great height
They try to pull down all high things low
They will borrow
Your honorable image
To invest with honor
Their dishonorable deeds.
Oftener than not
The credulous commoner
In his rustic reasoning
Makes the right choice,
But he is always misled
By these mischievous rogues.
Weakling as he is
He cannot bear his own load
It is better to leave
The ablest man to lead.
Given a choice
Would you choose these pigmies
And reject the colossus
Capable of guarding your gates
From thieves and thugs and marauders?
Think before you drive your dagger home
You opt for a worse tyranny
The small nets of these small men
Do not spare even the smallest fry
While big nets leave them alone
And once I am felled by these fall guys
The centre removed, there’ll be nothing to hold
These hypocrites baring their vicious fangs
Will then rush at each other’s throats
And in that general chaos
You will surely cry
For another Caesar’s rise
To rescue you from the rule of pigs.
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