Like a pauper wearing the same old clothes every season
That is how you look
Cheated, deprived and violated
I see the ravenous eyes of your children
Looking expectantly at me
And I wonder if this is the season of starvation
I see the kleptomaniacs
Wearing parachute- like robes
Moving about with bags of loots
And I see law enforcers carousing with them
I see Judges turning justice upside down
And Journalists lining their pockets with filthy lucre
As they bend the truth
I see the Children crying in pains of hunger
I hear the sad songs on your streets
As I inhale the noxious perfume of acrid smokes
Oh, I learnt everything here is for sale;
Conscience, judgement, votes, human and vehicular parts
Only your conscience is left unsaleable
And in your eyes lie the hope of bliss to come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem