At dusk, sitting on the side of a crowded street,
a poor thin old man was selling,
a few yellowed dirty cauliflowers.
People were on the hurry home.
‘'Go away cow.. don't eat my garden harvest! ''
Our eyes met.. I smiled,
‘'Sir, it's only 10 rupees...''
I don't need the cauliflowers,
but still I bought two.
Above the half -moon smiled.
(Belgaum, Karnataka India)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well written truth of India and the generosity of a human is expressed in a poetic way!