I served generations as an angel,
Who is often fated with goal single.
Though I was called a 'Porter's Rest',
Loads on my head were still varied.
Once there appeared a Hawk sweeping,
Spoiling the veils of village virtues:
Widening, Lengthening, deepening,
Adorning and beautifying continued.
Man has always been after changes;
Ignoring impacts, Good or Evil.
Nature suffered brutalities massive
Until the last knot of tolerance broken.
Things have taken turns lethal
Leaving no room for even regrets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem