Writhing out of an empty tummy
I jump out of bed to journey,
Inspired by the tic-tac of the clock
That starts to fade as I walk.
The day presents no fortune at all,
An Indian whines deals continue to fall
And that I should try the following day;
Perhaps luck might have come my way.
Hordes of people dot the streets,
Cheap-clothed and hunger-stricken paupers;
Tyrants and tycoons on lavish retreats,
And politicians from misappropriating public coffers.
Night beckons and darkness wears in,
The privileged sashay with smile and grin;
I feel pangs of hunger pierce as usual,
And I see armed duos plot behind a wall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem