At 2 Pm, when the sun is right,
Right because he burns bright.
It's humid as always,
To sweat is sweetness.
On queens necklace,
On Marine Drive,
On the Worli Sea face,
I saw human doves face to face,
Pecking beaks, afraid to meet lips,
But all have come,
Burning tires
Some on 2 wheelers
Some in 4 wheelers
I would use the word rubber
Most of India would shudder
Glad the youth burns even now
The embers of fire glow despite all denounce
If the fire in youth goes dead
The culture of tomorrow will get spiked
Like the books of yore
The Sanskrit who no one writes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem