Come trudge with me in jumble rubbles
Layers of construction erectile greed
Aroused as the funds sack went busted
To initiate a city center built on eggshell
Come listen to preached ephemeral;
That past pregnancy is today’s dawn
A resourceful developmental memorial
To propel the good that new age brings
But the troubled in meddling in mud
Or grease while adorned in white is like
Taking to flight, and riding on feather, that
If ever caught in whirling wind, is troubled
Same as oversight to evolutionary warning
That such despoliation offers no pasture new
But being only drummed to the hard to hear
Be sure disaster, inevitably loom next season
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem