Withering Harvest. Poem by sisirachandra vaduge
Withering Harvest.
Withering Harvest.
Why I became a Bachelor or Master of so-called syllabi,
Devoted and dedicated time and wealth,
The spirit of youth
Asked to study in and out,
The meager earnings of the generations,
Toilings of mothers fathers and brothers,
A great e xpectation and a definite investment,
To have a permanent life, became a delimma to the governing nations,
'But still we love Education'
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4/26/2024 4:47:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
