I am neither old nor young,
Neither weak nor strong,
Even I have doubts
In my pros and my cons,
True, I fed millions
Who sowed in dismay for years,
Who could turn sand into gold
Given a chance,
I was destined for this
By my white master,
But sooner or later
One day I may burst
And like Asoka’s troupe,
I may run over and slaughter
The children of God’s land,
Damn me!
Now they are fighting,
Fighting in my name,
Let me warn them one thing:
Dams may come and dams may go
But life must flow for ever…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice deed of personification sir, and the title itself is again inexplicably good.