Moving along the skywalk
Nearing Bandra railway station,
I see these in mid-passage
Two sheep, grand-looking
Like those hearded Muslim gentlemen.
One suddenly turned and pushed the udder
Of the other for a milkfeed
The other walked off,
Ahead rejecting the claim
Almost like having said No
In their language.
I am realizing the younger
Endowed suitably is Son
While the other is of course bigger and grander
Bringing up the son with discipline
And timing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem