The Sleeping City Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

It is here the royal dead live in the earth.
The royal palace had a tough queen, sitting
Under a calm canopy in the park outside
A certain Englishman greatly admires her
Clear-headed astuteness, on the stone,
The queen who had punished son, prince,
Under a trampling elephant, imperially.
Finally everybody sleeps in the afternoon,
Drowsy with day's sultry mundaneness
Why everyone sleeps the question is raised
The roadside vendor says what you can do
With so much shadow spread in the city
There is so much heat and so much shadow
The city sleeps: what can it do but sleep
There are dead men's halls everywhere
And drowsy sleep in our tired bodies
There was art in minds and culture and poetry
There is now commerce in the summer's heat
And dug up drainages and rolls of green wire
We wake up at dawn only to sleep in the day
Our poetry is in our opened up gutters
Our trade is in bloom on the sidewalks
Our shopping malls hide all our temples.