He was hungry.
Given enough food.
Ate voraciously with zeal;
Not satisfied.
Ate up dish, bowls.
Ate up waiter,
The cook,
The invitee.
Yet not satisfied...
Ate up the dining room,
The whole house,
The neighbours,
The neighbourhood,
The country
The world,
The moon,
The sun,
The universe..
Nothing left.
At last he made himself his meal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sriranji.. you are a madman .... I thoroughly enjoyed this imaginative piece.. congratulations... well conceived