The autorickshaw drives in
A crowd of silence gathers around
Pavements rose to feet
Poverty handed me an ice-cream
The stars above nibbled themselves all the shine
Empty tandoors in the sidewalk have no fuel
Hunger is still feasting on
My neighbours pretty dine
An air cloaked in night sleeves
Past, the boulevards and mansions
Eyes those are blurred from youth
Dreams and in dreams- believes
There'll be a hole in my neighbours wallet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem