'How delicately we born'
One day seen, he walked like toddler,
Again stood on his feet and walked,
Further a little farther, he crawled,
Again he was seen by my eyes; sprawled,
Then I asked or rather say quarried-
What this road is and where it goes?
Like a moon waning and waxing bard,
Said he, goes straight to grave yard,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem