His wrath was like a sudden burst of a gas cylinder.
'She belongs to higher caste, I won't marry her'.
His mother convinced everything was fixed,
she was leaving all for him.
She suffered from a stroke.
He understood, instead of gas cylinder,
his conscience burst this time,
he rushed to the hospital to be with his love.
There are variations among individuals'
outlook, judgement, nature and service.
He saw the moon everyday
but never observed the cycle-
full moon to new moon and vice versa.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem