Keep quiet. Let us make love,
To produce one more kid,
To send to the foreign land,
To work as the plantation slaves,
The buildings in the Middle East,
Awaiting for the cleaners,
The lands in those countries,
Have itch to have the sky scrapers,
Let our young adults go there,
Work as the expatriate laborers,
With no boots and protective gloves,
Their hands and feet are full of sores,
Let our educated professionals migrate,
Get accustomed with that free culture,
Let us pound and chew the betel pan mixture.
simple words, but so powerful and meaningful Brilliant..! ! !
The last line hits the nail on its head. More children meant more earning in old times. It seems to come back in a different way. Beautiful poem coming from your pen.
a satire with a powerful message for a nation of migrants! this way there would be little of our own culture left
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i had to see the first comment left here to see satire. the word did not come to me, but i knew you COULDN'T be sincere about what you wrote...i mean it isn't to be taken at face value. i think that's what i mean! i rarely if ever write using the fancy techniques of satire, simile, metaphor, etc. that my high school english teacher tried to get me informed about and maybe even interested in. his efforts fell on fairly deaf ears. thanks for sharing. :) p.s. I thought a lot of indians stay in india to serve me in america as my customer service telephone contacts etc. and others pick through the garbage piles of discarded american cell phones etc. to salvage gold. so you see? your country is going to keep some of its people at home! ! ! ! thanks for sharing.