</>In Realm of the forgotten
in the woods dark sodden
his pain gradually gets rotten
in his silence downtrodden
The silence of his lips
cries to stop the whips
flaring on his limbs
on due of his memberships
with allies disloyal to dictatorships
The wit-full world unknown
of pain as he moan
for whom he went to dethrone
has left him alone
His memories we mustn't disown
for his glory be well-known.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bahot accha