THE PIGS

So beautiful is the heaven on earth, our apple garden,

But the pigs of the neighborhood eye to rule over it.

They want to make a hell as they made theirs,

Want to sing an unmelodious song in chorus here.

For that, they trespass the fences from time to time,

And pluck unripe apples, smash buds and litter in the ponds.

Sordidness is their nature; to create havoc is their essence,

As they are the worshipers of violence, brainless dogmatic pigs.

The impurity in their blood, restlessness in their soul and brainwash,

Provoke them to make a hell of this heaven on earth, our apple garden.

The law protectors need to take on the law breakers high handedly,

War was this time necessary for the restoration of peace.

Rod is the logic of fools, then how could they sit on a table

The beasts understand their own language, the language of violence.

Hence, the new guardian of the apple garden hunted the pigs in their hideouts,

The guards sneaked in into their camps to teach them the pain of bloodbath.

Now silence all over, violence nowhere, peace got the last laugh,

They learn the lesson that the new protector knows their language.

He is neither a sympathizer of the hell nor weak in his will power,

As his predecessors ever since we are neighbors.