A Poem
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You laugh like a butcher,
after beating us with sticks
and kicks.
We were born
in a gunny huts,
grew up in sun,
and were charred one day.
The stone hearted,
cruel ones,
show us doves of peace
in the sky,
and then pierce
our dreaming eyes
with sharp needles.
The fairy from heaven
arrives in our
courtyard
with the poison of moonlight.
For so many years,
we were told tales
in the shadow of moon.
On that night we had the first dream,
thereafter there was no dawn.
The tree of dreams is still burning in our eyes.
Every night
a screaming bird crying against the atrocities is throttled,
and you engage in festivities
in protected palaces.
But beware!
the roof of your palace
is about to collapse.
….
(Translated from Gujrati by Dr. G.K.Vankar)
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