Tilling the hard land and the hearts,
sculpturing the moments in the thoughts,
straight solar light may many times bend,
but the bends in you, straighten the faults,
connecting the continents with the flights,
stationing the satellites as the slaves,
spreading the news through the signals,
wiping the tears of the weak and the desperate,
competing with the birds to reach the skies,
comforting the air with pacifying temperature,
clothing the human with colorful fabrics,
chasing away the poverty with a little finger,
Collecting the water to generate the power,
laying the roads for the smooth traffic,
assembling the machines to be our servants,
creating the robots with absolute precision,
Tying the flowers and arranging the bouquet,
operating on the table with scalpel and pliers,
Cleaning the roots to avoid the extraction,
Binary number kingdom has the vast podium,
The chalk held fingers have the marker and the mouse,
Slate laden laps have the laptop and gadgets,
Anxiety surrounded mind already get cleared,
the ten fingers of the human are the lighthouse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem