God, it's the man speaking,
From your dark, dumb streets
Where love finds love, neither meets or greets,
Days are dark, where greed, the nights too bring.
Know not I what you are,
It's men whom I see in and after my blink,
In you, let me and my life to sink
Until you put on a greedy gown and at you I stare.
I lost from you as I have taken birth,
Like does the small mounds from storms,
I hope not shadows of few million-homes
Or of that names as false as worth.
What I am is yours and will be once again,
Bless me with bosom until my callus leaves my pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Once again a beautiful poem dedicated to Almighty.......very nice