I find,
At present
No pious trees
That produce
Seasonal flowers
And fruits
For other living beings.
I find
Useless and
Impious trees
That can produce
Nothing but
The woods for fuels.
The vested interest
Persons of present days
Are less than
The useless and
Impious trees,
As they flourish
At the cost of working class.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Pious trees and good men live for others.