Rich are the ones, who are happy in their hearts,
Poor are the ones, who rear sorrow in their minds,
Where do I stand in the catalytic horrible world?
Here my people suffer not knowing of their might,
Helpless males, harvesting dreams, stand on the roads,
Aiming women scheming to get few grams of gold,
Rows of schools to churn out the future unemployed,
Where do I stand with a voluptuous scream unheard?
Barren land with thirsty gland not filled with nectars,
The offing painted with yellow, brown and black ash,
The men and boys booze while the women on fast,
Where do I stand with a lone voice of the need?
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I would like to translate this poem