The bourgeoisie weary ordeal human skeletons entangle in the cast iron wheels.
The profiteer squeezes their testicle and ovum.
Crush their Marrow less bones, Wisdom and Courage et cetera.
The output of thousands major products as same as by-products (ammunition) send for the market?
The Non-stop black smoke with soot from the factory's chimney top,
Poor fellows' dreams blow into the helpless sky and pollute;
The pure nature too quiet as an Owl of this cruel Monopoly.
And the stinking Sweatshop seems to be long-lived in this tyranny World.
I dedicate this poem to the humbug Mushroom Organizations that yelp of human rights.
What a sad poem. It is good that someone lifts his voice in defence of these helpless souls..Eloquent offering, Nimal. Your poetess friend, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The reader feels the venom of your rage Nimal in this powerful rant against the spin and injustice and tyranny of mechanization with its passion for profit at any cost. My favorite line is: 'The pure nature too quiet as an Owl'. You are a fine political activist, Nimal. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥