Fish gathered
At the Sea bed
And It seems to be a big conference.
Curator, An Octopus reads the Protocol.
'Why these cruel human beings spill oil in our region?
They must find an alternative instead of oil.
We innocents travel without fuel
And never pollute the Ocean.
When these cut-throats learn the manners they invented? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem