Saturday, October 01, 2011
Mute calves from Warhad are we
watching the plunder of mothers milk
Drenching earth drop by drop
with our sweat
yet our babies in hunger fret!
Cotton crop watered by out sweat
knotting 17 tears on our clothes
We farm with our sweat
on the pyre our bodies will only half burn
no money to buy the wood!
Reins of our lives always in the hands of others
While grinding flour
the floors will stain with out blood!
-- Late Shri Krishna Kalamb, farmer poet