They cut the rocks to chisel and carve out
The stupendous, magnificent and grand temples,
Out boulders, cliffs and chunks of stone,
Standing as a testimony o their age and times
When these were made,
But no record is available
And none can say about
When the temples were made
And who made them,
who were those architects and masons at work,
Everything but earthed in the womb of history?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem