I keep asking to my wife, mother and Parul weren'tI a train's driver
I notice their replies are almost negative
I let them make it clear that I were there
They have a clear idea on my affairs rather than me So I acknowledge them with great due respect 
Nevertheless I was a driver of a brick-coloured-train 
I wanted to get the nod of all
I assign my father to my mother
Parul you did sit yourself their beside me 
Couldn't you recall I had honked the horn, couldn't you recall! 
Yet the mist hadn't been dispersing 
Give your nod, please, pleeease! 
Couldn'tI be something else 
To dispel your perception! 
Translated by Hosen Motahar                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    