An undone drawing asks
“I want colors! ”
O artists, be heedful,
O artists, do the needful
Till today many drawings have been burnt
Yesteryear artists were utterly failed
A lot of attempts
Became like withered flowers
Endeavours very many
Became as dried rivers
Fire should not swallow the artistry
Our tomorrow should be a glittering history
Listen… listen…
The wounded drawings also ask
“Give us the treatment”-
O artists, catch the call
O artists, cling to the feel
Zest and zeal should pave the path
The destination is the place of peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem