We have no room, <br />We have no shame, <br />We have the night blanket, <br />The innocent children sleep, <br />beside The active parents, <br />Right beside the road sides, <br />Just under the dark bridges, <br />No nook and corner is wasted, <br />The youngsters are possessed with the spirit, <br />Haunted is our place, <br />Gossiping mouth can’t be gagged, <br />When the babies are born, <br />On the verandah of the hospitals, <br />And the new mother is ready, <br />To deliver the next citizen, <br />In a twelve months time, <br />just under the elevated highways, <br />wearing the dark night blanket, <br />the infant sleeps in the soiled clothes, <br />the older children are too tired to be awake, <br />the Indian adults who are left on the streets, <br />try to forget their troubles, just for a while.<br /><br />veeraiyah subbulakshmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-indian-love/
