These flowers are painted with colors,
Of peacock feathers, these rainbows,
Are bordered with frills of cotton clouds,
These applies are polished with chemicals,
Of carcinogenic sorts, these grapes,
Are crushed to be the wine to booze and ape,
These lionesses are called as the cats,
After sharing their hunted preys cold and hot,
This sky changes its attires procuring from the earth,
Even this moon plays hide and seek every fortnight,
Yes, these women always trust what men state.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem