With Great Sorrow Poem by Vera Sidhwa
With Great Sorrow
With Great Sorrow
He doesn't know.
He doesn't know.
With great sorrow
He writes this.
Weather a plant does not grow
And the wind does not blow
And the Earth's circumference
Does not enjoy the greenery.
He realizes then
That our great, great Earth
Does not know the meaning of 'pure.'
The pollution does soar.
He does know.
He does know
What to do.
He starts working on the environment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 8:27:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
