The evening ochre spread its golden hue
as lovers dedicated walked on frayed edges
Dreams, desperate wishes and silent pledges
Holding hands and hopes for a better tomorrow
A frail child makes its way to the evening crowd
Born into an orphaned world and of lesser god
Holding flowers signifying varying degrees of love
Crooning songs of love and loves labour lost
She knew that in moment of weakness
In the pain and hope of pleasing the jilted
In the wish that Hearts deepest desires are set
A little flower, a full boquet, the days meal was met
Along the streets the nights slowly fell in glory
Warm smile, hand reaching for the biggest boquet
Sweeping the loved one with deciet bagful of lies
The lil child heaved relief paying days first bowl of rice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There was a song in an English Old Movie, in which a western girl sells flowers, calling herself as a flower girl, beautiful poem Nitin Suresh! We, Indians, have forced our young children to work hard for a square meal! so sad Isn't it?