Poetry for O.N.Gupta are lilacs blooming in a hi-tech lab,
The mosaics of love and legend,
Seeing into the prism,
Spilled feelings as ever.
Humour, the art of humour
Is the chief forte of the poet,
The art of satire
And the rebuilding of a satirist.
A poet of some oblique approach,
Statements ironical and regaling,
Witty and satiric,
Make us bubble with humour.
The poetry baby born to him
Is the baby of wit, humour and satire,
Irony and sarcasm,
Sardonic and satiric.
Poetry as spilled feelings,
Overflows or
Ragpickings
As an afterthought.
A golden girl is a trophy, a memento
And the poet seeing in the museum,
As a saleswoman, a mannequin
A flower-girl, but not a robot girl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem