Down the back lanes
Of the ghettos
Of Santo Domingo, Pune, Delhi and Nairobi
Where I have ambled
Luxurious could mean
Three meals a day
Every single day
But in the dwellings
That are most opulent
I have observed that
Luxury is pedestrian
Fuelled by the greed
Whose mouth
Is an orifice
That leads to an abyss
Whose hunger
Can never be satisfied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem