The little girls were working their own
Their parents are working in building construction
The distant site they are engaged
The poor ones in the makeshift hut dwelling
The mystery and burden of poor ones
Who cares in this world sometimes we asks
The little ones were helping their parents
Cooking and cleaning, washing clothes
They knew their parents are hardworking
To eke out a living with sufficient food
The minimum necessity and want of humans
But here their life is with little education
Which they loses the torchlight for future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem