Even the bikes and autos are drunk and dancing
All the dirt and filth float down the Yamuna
What kind of city is this?
Those are demons in Delhi by Sunlight
And how the stink of garbage kill?
It is the true condition of the metropolis;
We ate in the little restaurant an hour ago
Under the dark fumes of inferno
There is no end to our pain and agony
The trees are not to be seen ant where
Clean river and roaring dams are never in reach,
Morning after morning the stink of garbage
Makes masses sickening
While leaders dance painlessly in Lutyens' Delhi,
Intoxicated and conceited
Our aching and tired heads in the hot sun burn
We are like lifeless advertisements and votes;
For those who come to power,
No one can see the pain of Delhi
They just dance and play while we are fried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautifully crafted realistic write depicting the aftermath effects of influential and short sighted man's greed for self aggrandizement even at the cost of the lives of his fellow human beings.
Thanks Sir for reading and kind comments.