She maybe seventy three or four
All her senses has lost their lives.
Only she can walk and talk to litttle
Her food is little bit and her sleep is too little too
In the age of her dying,
she has been deserted to road.
Not by others.by her own daughter
who received a lot in money and jewels
She is now on roads
as an orphan in platforms
Her poor vision and hearing
caused her to bear many wounds
Though her daughter is rich enough and
though she is residing in her mother’s house
She doesn’t care to her mother’s pains
All her motto is to drive her out and to
escape from the expenses of her death
Now that soul wanders as an orphan to
retain a shelter and for food
Is it right to us?
to push that soul on streeet for food and shelter
Are we civilized to see her sufferings?
shower your love on that soul, up to her departure to
last bed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem