Huge junk around him are his treasures
As he picks the rubbish of riches in pleasure
Smile surrounds his face for a while in his melee
When he finds a loaf of bread for his empty belly
His childhood dies in broad daylight
Youth is at threshold of trivial fight
Dust and filth are the only real peers
He tries to earn the living in wothless tears
Everyday he looked down as a notorious criminal
Why he was here only to prepare for his funeral
The spark of eyes slowly subdue in darkness
Ray of hope flies stealthily in uneven gloominess…..
Zuhaib Khursheed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem