We are all killers,
We are killing our own mother,
We are killing our own mother-tongue.
We are all killers here
And yet we are shameless
And we are walking on the national highway
Like hero though our production is zero.
We failed to renew our love,
We failed to call the birds
That are at the tree-top.
We are crying for the butter-fly
And we are smiling for the sands
They are there in their respective places,
And we are not ready to bring them back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem