I visited him once
In his dark dungeon.
It was like living in a closet.
I understood,
How hard he works to make ends meet.
It wasn’t that easy
Being busy
At the middle of the sea.
To live in a shaking shell,
Sleeping in a bug ridden bed
Still
I don't understand why? !
His chest
An inch high
In a vainglorious pride,
Keeping everything aside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well written, Bakuli. Thanks
thank you...