He was wrong, too wrong.
A fire burned all over the conurbation
And the old man's blanket was wrapped;
A fire in a blanket,
The young man did not know his home.
Home is washed away
Looking for the path to the brunch of the park in the afternoon,
His looms nothing if a vision can see;
The cloud's sleepy face, as it is seen in the coldness.
There are no birds in the sky,
No birds in the tree,
The butterfly is not in flower,
How you tell it alive!
Young man is so reasonable to wearing a pajamas of frustration,
Look and not be looked,
I know,
Eighty eight feet of a man is a man;
The march will be at the door of your evil deeds.
I want you to be better.
If you can,
Yes today.
I want you to be better.
(KS,15012020, Court Road Sreemangal)
Very Interesting protesting poem it calls me to read.Title was much more interesting.Thanks poet
very wonderful wetting that calls me to read...nice and interesting title
A poignant and thought provoking write. The title drew me to read this poem. Liked the closure lines with a wonderful message.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bro it is a heroic poetry.Thanks.