Early morning he wakes up
Packs his clothes and ties his shoes
Picks his broom and sweeps the lane
He's the village sweeper.
Nobody asked him to clean those lanes
Everybody thinks his efforts are in vain
For the next day it fills up again
With grease, dirt and dung filled chains.
Yet he does his duty
The duty not given by the bureaux
But the duty that his good soul gave him
So he sweeps the lanes, every morning.
He never asks the question 'Why'
Not to himself or to thyself
He never complains nor he quits
He goes on about with a cheesy smile.
He's an employee
Of a regular Govt. company
Yet he does not care
About his reputation or his fare
'You missed a spot', 'You ruined the lot'
But he does not heed
For he knows he's alone.
Bitter is this world
Cruel and Savage
But people like the sweeper
They make this world bearable, still!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem