Now the old scar opens again
A lanky gap toothed man
In crusty garbs returns
This time in flowing robes
Everyone has a knock
Hunger's hands fisted to fight
Wares taking a flight into the sky
And wingless prices attempting
To follow.
This time is worst than the other
And soon we have grasses for food
In stiff contest with the herdsmen
Soon we die more
Thank God this tenure is limited
In three years time
We will be healed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem