We, are the citizens of the streets.
The parodies
of humanity
paraded
out of the city
like a scourge
eating up their world.
Our voices they detest,
our existence they
reject.
And we, are the dregs
of the society!
Holed-up in gutters
and flung out like
paupers,
our soul and spirit despair.
For each blow tears us apart
and each night maims us alive.
Yet, we too are the earth! !
And we, are the same
everywhere:
citizens of the streets.
We, are the victims of war,
battered, shattered and scattered
with homes torn apart.
We, are the victims of
quakes, plaques and rain
evacuated into an unsheltered word.
We, are the faceless.
But,
stay, hope, stay!
For our soul is nourished
even through the bruise
that this sun, someday
shall rise again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A strong voice of humanity. Excellent the making from the core of heart perhaps. Poetically it has touched its aesthetic height.... No need of adding so long post script with such sensitive writing. Readers are not idiot as some poets think sometimes. Since it's not any special feature of history. Universal and for all ages till today it is truth to the perspective of the globe. Expect the poet is capable enough of holding high the spirit. Thanks for sharing................................................................Pranab k c 10