The winter roads in Calcutta
The proud metropolis of Eastern India
throw up dust at the skies
At the slightest provocation of a moving transport
And the people sneeze and sneeze and sneeze
Calcutta poets sneeze and that is the poetry of Calcutta
Calcutta politicians sneeze and that is the politics of Calcutta
Calcuttans have breathing truble
They gasp for breath
The horns of buses and trucks and trucks
Celebrate that and exclaim
Oh Doomsday is near at hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem