There are three types of Indian,
The first is as soft as the butter and cream,
Can be spread on any bread and scones,
Really the soft quality crust and the elite,
The second is the hardened butter kept in the fridge,
They keep their emotions inside and maintain the shape,
And peace within themselves and other middle class,
Once left outside, they will melt, losing all composing skills.
The third is the ghee, poured into the fire,
Always burn themselves to warm the masters,
They are very emotional and can spurt and be foul,
They are forced to support the rest with the defaced face.
A lovely classification made here. Still I prefer the third who want to live and excel being within the known and given condition (though a lots of misery and paucity) . Who knows, one day sphinx will come out from these ashes only ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice analysis brought out in a beautiful way. enjoyed reading!