Some holding steel handles.
Those seated, in various scandals.
Asleep, completing unfinished orgies of last night.
Awake, faking understanding of bought press.
In trance, listening to music, cumming to Nirvana.
Extinct relics, writing poems.
Shhh.... The Passengers are travelling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aswath Raman, thanks. I laughed when I read your reaction on the bomb. I understand you. Look we Indians may be a poor country, I don't believe in the fate believers of this country, but I do believe that there is no point in getting scared of imminent and present dangers as Hollywood would phrase it. Let the world do what it wants, we won't give up our way of living.