Monsoon comes with a gust of rain,
Making people go insane,
Some farmers shout in joy,
while little houses gets destroyed....
Little slum children gets high fever,
In the damp weather, they violently shiver
No one looks at them,
they slowly suffer in pain....
In the winterland,
Blows specks of dust and sand,
But snow soon covers it all,
Making mounds big and tall...
Poor people die of frost,
while we buy heater at huge costs,
We snuggle in our comfy beds,
While people get frozen to death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
excellent, Baidurya