Amar-prem
Immortal love,
How the flame of it
Burning me?
Amar-prem,
How the worshipper of it
In the Temple of Heart?
Michael Jackson
The dance master
In the style and pose of his own
Breaking the body at the beats of music
And the pace of rhythm so full of thrill and rejuvenation.
Poor India's Poor Daughters
Poor India's
Poor daughters
Going to school.
Indian Summer
Indian summer,
The parched earth
And the sun-burnt hamlets
With small mud houses
And smoking hearths
So full of humidity
Bearing the brunt of heat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem