The running compartment metro kiss,
Sometimes before public is not a bliss.
The angry old co passengers shout,
'Beat them, beat', they say without doubt.
'Beating is the principle in this case',
Masters of society thus rule the 'base'.
Hollow superstructure that they frame,
Revolution'll collapse 'unconscious' brain.
Law permits private and public to melt,
Blackish minds set shameful illegal belt.
When an Eve teaser lurks over a woman,
The illegal law makers silently make it fun.
Let them have a concent compartment kiss,
But remember always may it not be a bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem