Here in this pavilion
We jostle and struggle
As if no day comes again
In the semblance of today
Getting and boasting
Little remembering
That we have been little birds-
Fully -fledged fledglings
With soft plumes fresh from the egg,
Our weak beaks yawning
Yearning for our mother's benevolence.
Here strong today
Getting and spending
In this pavilion
Where bounties parallels dearth
We the possessors loom high
Dwarfing the dispossessed
In an all out theatre
With a disastrous epilogue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem