Gloomy Picture Poem by ANJANDEV ROY

It's the very hot season,
Throughout the day the little children are working in the factory,
Sweats are running down all through their limbs,
Still they get no respite,
What wicked force has compelled them to work at such a tender age?
It is the stark poverty of their parents,
For which they are bound to toil even in the toughest environment.
With their soft little hands they have to do all the hard works
And carry the heaviest things,
Losing their balance they fall but soon rise again
And pretend that they are tireless in this realm.
The innocent children look at everything of this spurious world with indifferent eyes,
As if they are never in this sphere,
Their souls are truly dead,
Still they have to survive in this inferno without making any complain;
Their tragic destiny has strangled them and thrown them in abysmal condition,
It's the worst picture for an artist to portray,
His hand trembles and heart weeps,
But he can not conceal the harsh reality of the bleak world.