Nobody knows his boundless pain,
The heartless nation, running;
Crying and crying;
On the threshold of his house,
In the lap of his helpless Papa,
Swollen eyes,
In the endless, wait for Mom.
Cries of the child,
Lost in the dim and noise;
People running to work as usual,
In the mechanical office,
But, not actually in office.
The child still crying for his mother,
Not crying for the milk or toy,
His mom was transferred,
By the callus bank management.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Dr. Yogesh. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.