A bus collided one day morn
With a truck that did not blow horn.
The mishap took a heavy toll
Of passengers of the bus whole.
Some were dead and some were rolling
On the ground owing to bleeding.
Limbs of men, women and children
Were lying scattered and broken.
These carriages in the forest
Were after mishap taking rest.
What a pathetic was the scene!
Like that one might have rarely been.
The air was surcharged with the grief;
The hearts vibrated like a leaf.
Such events serve as a warning
To the men who have live feeling.
But lo! The pockets of the dead
Were picked there by the turbans red.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem