Waste.
Do not print, save trees.
I don't wish to print Pakistan.
Neither does the Pakistani,
Wishes to publish me.
We both want to save paper,
The cover of our remaining sanity.
The waste is not wasted,
If we can recycle,
Our core nature,
Alien to us, but infects.
Come out,
And understand.
Bombs are bombs,
They blow lives and tear limbs,
Neutrally.
Most impartial.
Devoted to our constitutions,
No discrimination between any one.
Let's bomb the bombs of our minds.
Forget trees,
They will sprout by themselves.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem