Her service is a vanity; she loaths the lower
Days go on at her mentorship at empty hue
She says, 'I can't do these', always with power
Half a day, crost by her rue-
Panting, deploying, criticizing, or rebuking;
Had all but now everyone chanting-
'When will her case be full! '
The case- 'That she laments one day she may die'
'Tis to me so unbearable and dull
Every next day, seen all her mystery lie.
May her be a table with, or all she is provided
But how he could not give a bread
To whom she had urged to give her waist.
Everyone's majesty built with generosity and love
And empty personality is what who waste
And permit none nothing above;
Mrs. Gupta: -has nothing though has everything,
Is a shallow minded, seeking for winning.
But one dear call for sleep makes her ditto-
Under the chilling air she appeals to eyes
Which next the everyone has made their motto.
We just learned it from her! To having cool breeze
Upon the forehead.'Tis only thing we learn
From her, except because we petty earn.
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem