My town sits up in full life in forenoons.
At 8-00, sun heats up the town square.
Lorries unloading veggies outside Pennington market.
Cyclists and bike riders rush to reach work.
Tea shops sell hot bondas on which street dust settles.
Vendors cry to sell fruits, flowers, nuts,
sweets, clothes, vessels under bright sun.
Mussalman repair locks and umbrellas.
Traffic rush halts everything;
policeman curses everyone except himself.
The prayer call from mosque tower,
the voice from church tower.
The heat and dust reach Heavens, while angels sneeze.
Men from villages nearby,
rush and sweat, to buy and sell.
Buses honk horns, while cyclists ring deafening bells.
Everyone yells at everyone, madly.
A sight I don’t ever wish to miss.
- S. Ramesh
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem