I have no rebels
I am the king, almighty.
My subjects don't know how wise I am; They should boast for having me as their protector.
But some of them are so callous.
When I stud my kingdom beautifully, embed my bedroom with novel furniture from East, those prattles babble about me so much.
They say I squander money.
I hate those rebels.
I kill them or capture them in my dungeon, one-by-one.
So sublime is my feat.
Now I have none to soar from the unfathomable darkness of prisons and challenge me, my integrity towards my people.
Ah! What a peace it is!
Without rebels, I have a liberty to turn a little reckless.
I love my queen so much.
When she dies, like Shah Jehan, I will build a Taj Mahal instead of getting engulfed in languor.
I will wear the new mantle if I sit by her grave in the winter night.
Only the frail do cry.
That's why, I will bid my men to cry for her; They will get death if they are unable to bring tears at the rims of their eyes, hazed by a mist of winter.
Oh! How glad I am that I have no rebels.
Guard! Why are you pointing your lance towards me?
Oh! My darling, my queen, why are you glancing at me with askance? Flit the eyes or I will gouge! Cover them with your veil.
My wreath of roses, braided so nicely, is now turning into a crown of thorns.
My blue blood is turning red.
My beloved queen is turning traitor.
Now I finally have a rebel.
Or, may be I am surrounded by rebels, to have a tryst with some more.