East is East and West is West,the twain never meets

says the ballad of Rudyard Kipling,calling

( perhaps me ) a ravenous bird,from the East,

,The man that execute the​ my counsel,

From a far country,yea I have spoken it

Down the memory line clocked the world

two thousand years so wild a run,

all through, killing and building societies

making ways on high seas,ripping down

The mountainous terrains,making pug markse

Again and again to trace the steps back

We know,the Alexander,the messaih Christ

and the venerable shout of AllahO Akber,

renting and ringing are the war cries made

and we could feel the wet red blood,

it's peels in the river beds when they dry

And on the walls of Ajanta like Arte facts

O the warriors of past,travellers of yore

I discover you all,as I crane my neck

Over the Hudson creek and strike dumb

Of the inky picture of New York