Somewhere they're spreading their wings,
Somewhere they're running around,
Somewhere they look like poor holy men
Standing still in deep meditation.
Somewhere they're playing games
With their little cloud brothers.
And sometimes on mountains they make
Colorful beds of fluffed cotton.
They sail peacefully in the skies.
They bring us joy and tranquility.
They playfully lift our spirits and
teach us quite a few things humbly.
They take water from the earth
and give it back to her.
But we hoard and give back nothing.
So miserable are we.
Their shade makes us happy.
They pour down rains relentlessly
And disappear instantly asking
in return for nothing.
Their existence is not for themselves.
They live and die for us without complaints
except they say they cannot live now
among so many plants burning coal. It is
hot out there from the global warming.
They will die and so will we with the GOP
without clouds, shade, rains...
i like the poem (translation) . is Pushpa P. Parjiea on PH, i wonder. i have questions about these: hot out there from the global warning. .................would you like to change to global warming? They will die and so will we with the GOP.....do you mean the G.O.P. aka the U.S. Republican Party? without clouds, without shades, without rains....shades is ok, but i'd use shade (i think): maybe not. to MyPoemList. bri
Thank you Robert. The poem needed a lot of editing and spell check.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for stopping by, for your comment and questions. Pushpa is on poemhunter. Warning was a typo. My translation is not parallel to the original poem in Hindi. I added GOP, the US republican party for emphasis.