Waded in the stream,
behind the ancestral home,
Where the farmers have grown,
nourishing sugar cane flame,
Saddled in the dream,
behind the curtain of realism,
Where the thoughts have built,
selfishly refracting prism.
Guarded the memories,
behind the blinds of favoritism,
Where the emotions have brewed,
to make one to be fermented and stale,
Maddened life has fragmented us,
behind the plastered cosmetics,
We are a piece of art,
very vibrant and pale to the eyes of all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Submitted: Monday, August 12,2013 (8/12/2013 9: 41: 00 PM) Gajanan Mishra wrote, we are a piece of art, good write, I invite you to read my poems and comment.