The life of the little ones, not so beautiful, <br />Though they have the code for the colorful fabric, <br />Light as feather; feel like naked, once worn, <br />Before starting the spinning, shed the skins, <br />The perfect stage for the protective cocoon, <br />The hermits want to have the slumber in, <br />Unaware of the horror that awaits to get in, <br />Meters of strong rope to protect their fortress, <br />Uninterrupted yogi fast growing with no distress, <br />Not knowing the wickedness at the threshold, <br />Boiling the bounty of silk in the broth, <br />Chasing out the pupae from their abode, <br />Jumped into the boiling water to be scalded, <br />The human scoop them out to fry and eat, <br />The martyrs who produce the yarn, <br />To clothe the rich and the king, <br />End up as A tasteful delicacy, <br />in poor silk producing countries.<br /><br />veeraiyah subbulakshmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-martyrs-in-the-silkworms/
