Mumbai,
I know you hate.
Me.
I do not confirm,
I show you my middle finger,
I exclaim,
But of course my love,
I do not.
The moment I did,
I won't be riding you,
I need to ride you,
Mutual it is,
You dance,
I jive,
We ride,
We get pregnant,
I the red slivers,
Of your vast eyes.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem