A hanging board on the wall
Glaring are the letters
Put up by the stout cadres
Tells what it matters.
They call it party office!
But the land is encroached,
Illegal and unethical;
It checks the entire growth.
The materials are forcibly looted
poor‘s labour is complimentary
Thus, the structure got a shape
To run a political monastery.
You follow Monster culture
Illustrate like an ideal person
But sit on a looted throne
To run a business of arson
Though illiterate, dictate the poor
Using a bolder whip of monarchs
They follow you; they obey you
For your hard cruelty and ugly gore.
We hope to see the day
When you will change
The poor will carry party flags
This society will also change.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stout Caders are omnipotent, and fortunately they will not notice But its reality in indeed Gr8 capturing!