In a village factory,
Women old and young…
Roasting cashew nuts in black rusty barrels,
Faces and sarees darkened in soot,
choking swirling smoke,
Till late evening sun.
Till late evening sun.
(Seen in a village on the way to Goa, India)
When everyone just relish the roasted nuts, your heart feels the pain behind! A great soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful, simply beautiful One can fully expereince the scene while reading the poem