Don’t beat me, Sir; it’s not my fault sir
I was a common man living my common life
My mother rubbed ash on my face
And taught me the art of the nat
I sold this art
and scrounged a roti for my hungry child
On seeing the roti
my child fell upon it
like a hungry animal
and on seeing him
I shook with tears
My wife wiped
those tears with the end of her saree
and so we were lost on our arts
Don’t beat me Sir it’s not my fault sir
I was a common man living my common life
vaishakh rathod
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely poem...thanks for sharing this poem.