The Unsatisfied Artisan

This chopper cannot cut well; Its every blow comes back to itself. This knife is very blunt; While going to dress a fish, Even a living fish Gets torn into pieces roughly. This plow cannot till well; Its blunt coulter cannot break down The pre-historic pure silt-soil. This heart cannot love well; Getting rusty, it has become a leaky cauldron. Breaking down the old earth with kicks, O the unsatisfied artisan, Let us rebuild it. Let us break down the rusty language of poetry. Destroying the language of polluted love, The formalin-mixed knowledge and science, Let us rebuild the Taj Mahal. Let all the lands of the sun-rising and the sun-setting Get crowded with new men and new lives.