The Eccentrics are not born as such
They emerge from a very usual bunch,
From the very ordinary of us
With the same colored hair, skin and eyes.
Only one fine day, when they wonder again
‘What’s the point of living your life in vain? ’
The unnoticed to others child-simpleton
Gets nicknamed the ‘Eccentric’ from there on.
And, not getting the answers from grown ups
And unwilling to settle for doubt,
The Eccentric starts writing poems or songs -
In the hope to sort it all out…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem