At long last, they did not give me the permanent voter's card or pvc as they called it
But still, i was there to relish the sight of two elephants fighting
And here, there were plenty grasses to absorb the impact
I stood in my characteristic way wandering my eyes through the throng of faithful denizens
My eyes caught sight of an old mummy who already has a standing space in the queue- though the sun also did not spare her its scorching hate
Soon it was her turn
and because she was shaky and tired, the uniformed fellows helped her
She painted her wrinkled thumb as would an old compatriot
And with such meticulous savvy acquired only in years of voting
She voted the sameness of her country
Just like others did
Amids the synchronous razzmatazz of 'changi dole! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
elections doesn't cure everything but created everything