That's the only reason we wake up,
Though the will to power fails on some,
Man certainly gives occasion to them
When he sees the exercise of it,
And Resents on the way he is treated
At that dimension with respect to
The time, place, but fails to
Think, of the history and
How they laboured on the Ridges of
Bulgaria, to reach there;
They try to criticise, act
Like the dictator of the respective
Dimension,
And try to belong;
Beginning
With squelch heard from the cows
Strolling across the marshlands and
The muddy waters ,
The cold air which wakes you
At dawn,
The rays of the sun trying to penetrate
Your windscreen,
The gentle touch of the voice of the birds
Trying to wake u,
Thoughts Of The day, reminds
The brain,
About their turn for their execution,
Hardly we go out without setting
Our hair right,
Image of the women we love flashes
In the brain,
We check ourselves how we look
Before her,
Or among them,
If the clock hurries we hurry
Forgetting we still have a life,
With every breath receding us,
With every hair that we move,
We exchange things,
And those things are purposes;
With every work we do,
With every fawns thrown at us
With every abuses aimed at us
By our so called ' bosses'
Not the leader, we seem to submissive,
We go even,
And those things are done on a purpose;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem