Way Poem by Kanishka SricharanPratap
Way
Rating: ★5.0
From primitive times
Our father's... father's father
Made the way
For us,
Where was left
Some holes.
Today
We
Their son's... son's... son's son
Instead of filling
Those holes
Have made
Deeper and dark,
Digging... digging
And looting!
Now waiting
The dark of fathomless depth
For our grandson's son!
Translated from Odia by
Subash Chandra Mohapatra
Monday, November 12, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: way
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5/6/2024 3:20:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
