Water simmers on the stove
Grater is turning to pieces, a dry clove
Eyes shimmer with vapour at the door
Outside, enjoying with smells, a beggar
Inside intestine is being cut with dagger
Life is such a mirage with darkest craze
They are fit, meadow green they graze
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
stunning poem on poverty..love it