The skinny dog born as a puppy
Few months back at the road site
Under the mango tree along other puppies
No one knows where all puppies have gone
But he had grown near the road site
Eating the dustbin food and drinking drain water
He was standing under the tree at heavy rain
Was sleeping under the tree at hot summer
Was sitting under the tree at chilling cold
Perhaps the tree was the God for him
The vast black road was his playground
The stars, sky and moon were his friends
Every day I used to watch the dog from window
I like his streatching legs for worming up
I like his emerging tong in hot summer
But one evening the dog did not came
When I came to the road other day
It lied on the road with spilling blood
The interior organs came out as cotton
It brought me into silence for a while
Few drops of tear oozed out from my eyes
The road site dog born, raised and died on the road.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem