The farmer works back-bent in scorching Sun;
The house-maid mops the floor all on her knees;
The beggar feeds his child with tea and bun;
The driver lives with H.I.V. disease.
And children work ill-paid, most dangerously;
The circus girls are meant for ogling men;
Unemployed youth, literate, walks aimlessly;
And bullets speak better than writ by pen.
The 'battered-wife' curses her wedding-day;
Work harassment goads husbands take liquor;
The child gets neglected in every way;
There ain't limits to commit crimes or err.
The richer nations threaten poorer ones;
And peace is ushered by the pow'r of guns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Shared this online and The Wordpress Freelance Daily, published it under Stories June 29,2013.