We are the grass,
So no ne cares for us.
We are the downtroden,
We are the bed ridden,
No one cares for us
No one thinks of us.
Men make us loose,
Men make us dry.
No one cares for us
As we are the grass.
We hear of the Sun,
Poets say, he is kind
But we don't find.
He is too careless,
Sometimes shines more, sometimes too less.
We hear of clouds,
They wear good masks.
They revives first,
Then keep us deep under water.
Think not even a little
Until we are rotten.
We heard of the sky
He is useless,
He looks at us always,
Watches our plight
But says not a word.
We heard of the wind,
Swift like a horse.
He brings sands
And press us down.
Yet we come out
Not losing our dream
To show you a nameless flower.
But cattles come,
Trample us and eat our dreams
No one cares for us,
As we are the grass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem