I do not expect high from the Indians
As they never gave me a chance
To publish my poems
Instead of going through and knowing me.
They tried their utmost best
To crush me and my poetry
Which I shall tell you someday,
What did I bear for poetry-writing?
The big poets and the small journal men,
They all ignored and neglected me,
The professor critics,
They all utilized my matters.
But if God's grace is there,
None will be able to crush you down,
There are definitely some good people
For whom the world goes well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem