Who has handed over the iron wands,
Hammers, spanners to flowery hands?
Who has killed all the twinkling worms,
Snatching toys and dolls of fairylands?
Who knows how many sons of dream,
Go asleep, longing for milk and cream,
And motherhood with a stone of patience,
Stifles in the heart the emerging scream?
Then who will light the lamp to shine,
Delete and demolish the heinous line,
Drawn to divide the great and small;
Clean the path of the world to refine?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Child labour is a disgrace! i loved how you addressed a child's hands as flowery! Preets