Look atthe busy faces,
From dawn to dusk they run,
It's the daily occurrence,
They have no time to waste,
The stranger observes everything with great attention and patience,
Out of curiosity he asks them about their destination,
But no response comes;
Instead the busy persons look back in anger,
Which grieves the stranger.
But it is the drab reality of the time,
Life moves on the beaten track having a humdrum existence,
Few can deviate from it with great courage and strength,
They are the real champion
And we write them in our book.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem