Earth has lost the praise of heaven
But has gained the curse of hell,
Man lies barren like the desert-
In the grip of grab and sell
Spread on crust toast crisp by sun,
Breathless for a whiff of air,
Vendors spout in catching pun
Verbal glitter of their ware
Flying from vehicles' exhaust
Over cities taint with sleaze,
Smoke, like some strange spectre,
Haunts and clogs with cancer breeze
Heated waters, broken daughters,
Baptized with the seed in crime-
Those who nip the buds for harvest,
Rob from fields the fruit in time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well penned Radhica, a picture of the looming barrenness that might invade us if we don't mend our ways before it's too late.10.