Drilling the bark happily singing too
Cutting the trunk happily singing too
Bark to bark the wood-pecker goes
Next and next the cutting he does
Happy bird turns into a crying struggler
Victorious cutter is still happier
The deprived bird and the slain trees
Throw a curse over the man for no life
There happens a turn of drought
On the land forests being totally without
No rain and life becomes lifeless
Man preys on even beasts
Beast-like himself indeed, the wild
Cuts down his own race - be it old or child
Mother or other brutally killed and preyed
The land wounded with ichor oozing
Putrid stink everywhere nauseating
Soil becoming rusted with blood
Mother Earth to burst now of whose fault?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem