Grave festivities shrouded the already bent milieus, As Time's chariot took to The track of 'Kali', the Age of Vice. Under a burning sun, on a blackened earth By barren shrubs and trees Passed a procession of blaring trumpets and drums Blown and beaten by the praetorians of iniquity, The gangster of this dusky dawn, In gentle pants and coats dressed Wearing formal ties, ironic to a dacoit's attire. Literate pens adorning breast-pockets, in place of guns; So were the leaders of this parade. Next in turn, on a donkey rode, Sin, in flirty apparels Carrying an inhuman sword An ugly face hid under a headdress of laurels. In a palanquin behind, was a crying mother, The abducted pure Earth Who had been married in The light from the pyre of holy scriptures In a tavern of gamblers, The temple of prostitution. Down her cheeks the Pacific rolled Held captive in glittering rings and chains. Gagged Morality and stilled Decency, Were the only bearers of this heavy litter. At the end was Vicious progeny - The rich mindrupts, who tempt fortune on life; Whose sight rapes chastity; those cannibal vampires - Dancing on the carpet of trampled skilled hands. Now they will ravage all nooks To feast on the last innocent drops of blood To wassail in the name of this induced relation.