Work in stone crushers,
Break and hammer down
The larger chunks and blocks of rocks
And turn them into the stone chips
Of the bituminous roadways,
Sweating and burning the coal tar,
Bearing the brunt of heat and dust,
Fire and whole day fatigue,
And sprinkling over,
Mixing and rolling with,
But when the road is complete
We forget it
The sweating and health hazards
Of those wage-earners, workers and labourers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem