papa always says
and reminds me for this:
my son do not take
a stone and hit your own head
with it
and i asked papa why?
and he said
it hurts it hurts it hurts
and i already had it
much, much, much
and he looked at me with
sadness
saying: you are what that
stone gave me
and so i live my life
thinking about it
even after he had died
years back, years back
and perhaps with such
a moral lesson learned
shall i take that stone
and hit others so as
not to hit myself more
again and again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem