My soul is troubled painfully and in tension I cried.
It is at exact eleven 'O' clock at night my street is slept.
Two angels came and pulled my soul roughly and I died.
A grave is dug and at exact eleven at day Iam buried.
A bad faces angel came, cut my tongue and pulled my eyes.
And a big snake came into my grave and hissed my body.
To see all this weeping drops came from the sky's eyes.
I called to Allah, Shiva, Jesus to save me from agony of my soul.
To a guilty man They pitied me and sent me upto heaven and hell.
There I saw Gods, one is Head all obey Him with a great honour.
I wept to go through the troubles of hellish people in pell-mell.
Guilty men are released from imprisoned hell after every hour.
While I was talking with God in the sky I heard morning bell.
I awoke soon and surprised to see sunrise from my sleeping tour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem