Today, at six am
After having a pleasant bath
In shower, and
A cup of hot tea
I start my laptop
I found, window-7 was crushed
I tried to start it again and again
I called the engineer immediately
He reinstalled it again
I took a breath of relief
Next moment
He told me about
‘the death of a writer'
Drive-E was fully deleted
He tried hard to recover it
But all was in vain
A novel, two collections of short poems
And a script of bollywood movie
I had written, was finished
The great piece of great literature
I had lost everything, and
I was speechless to lost my treasure of literature
I was speechless with dead words
He correctly declared
It was a ‘death of a writer.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem