'As I walk tonight in gentle breeze
beside some rows of darkened trees
whose branches bend from time and heat
and withered leaves scattered in the street
the people passing hurrying up
their faces gathered like empty cup
the day passed like a restless cloud
its scent clings deeply upon the crowd
work that seems a shadow in the skies
falling like dusts to human eyes
the mind and body, all are weary
thoughts on labor all so dreary
to some, work is not a hustle
while for others it is a struggle
a process of losing life's grip
but still going inspite of hardship
to accept this fate or so it seemed
feeling the pain hidden in the wind.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
to some, work is not a hustle while for others it is a struggle a process of losing life's grip but still going inspite of hardship to accept this fate or so it seemed feeling the pain hidden in the wind.' Verily, the hard workers take life as a struggle and feel the pain......10