The hawker is hawking
alongwith sun baked street
in the chilling cold
requesting all pedestrian
to come and buy their goods
He is doing so
to earn bread of two times
for his family
which ever is also earned
But he is determined
to win the race of life
So many times he is caught by Police
for only his crime,
and pay Rangdaari Tax,
even to local bad element
struggling to earn a piece of loaf
for the appetite of his family
to educate his children
But all along he is hawking
come and buy his goods
he is never to be defeated
can not be deprived
from winning the race of life
only with the hope
His to-morrow is better.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem