I am disgusted with it, hate to look at it
Fresh air is trying to get loose
Rats, cockroaches are breaking its gate.
Devils destroying it
God's creation is gone
Trees not mercilly cut
Birds nowhere to be found
Fishes are dying
Non living might just speak
they are begging
for heavens sake
have pity to our country.
Pollution and corruption is governing
no place for me and everyone
keep the wolf away from the door
if not I will be an Expatriate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Better to be an expatriate than being a thief who begs to live, in his own country.Good job Jane.Keep it up!