I have a heart no different from yours -
In size, in make, in its perpetual toil
And rhythms of your life when you have nerves
And when in pride you swell, in pain you boil.
It like yours is so soft to touch and feel -
A lovely flower with spray of scented zephyr -
As I behold you, your sweet eyes and smile,
That it does smile in warming beats and measure.
Yet sometimes hard becomes the heart of mine -
A stone that has no ears, no eyes, no senses -
When I can't hear the cries of others' pain,
Can't see their woes, and when fall they, I rejoice.
I know not if your heart is so obstinate,
But, honestly, this heart of mine I hate.
- N. P. SAMAL
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