after the progress
when sky scrapers
stand tall reaching
the moon and the
stars and elbow to
elbow with the sun
the birds may have
asked: where shall we
put our nests?
and the trees may
have asked: where
shall we ever grow
again?
and the brooks may
have asked: where
shall we ever flow?
and yes, mamta, the
children as asking:
do we still have
playgrounds to play?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem