Sitting Under a Torn Umbrella

Hope! Hope! Hope! What a charming word! But does it exist in reality?

When we do need its warm reception, get nothing but a mere formality.

I dreamt so many dreams, once I had a high perception,

Being hopeful, never I had tried to discharge my due obligation.

Now my qualified offspring are well-established. But they don't have respect in joint family,

We old haggard parents are sitting under a hope of umbrella which is torn originally.

Look at that gentle lady! She is seventy six and in fragile health,

Coming from the market having some essential items out of breath.

Her only daughter left her with her fiancé to enjoy life of living together,

Having squeezed all her efforts she had nurtured her dear daughter.

Her kind affection, love and hope all have gone in vain,

Sitting under a torn umbrella she will not avoid falling of rain.

Have you ever seen the frustration of life? Deep faith of man is strangulated everywhere,

Breaking of promise is an art today. Crying of honesty we can't hear.

Have you ever seen a strange begger on the street? Who is a begger of love, affection, mercy, kindness and so on,

Being deprived of these humane qualities, now he is a victim of passionless passion.

Man doesn't cry for another man's suffering. Feelings of pain seems to be uncanny,

We cannot hear the chorus song of unity. Melody of Symphony turns into cacophony.

Hapless members of the depressed society should be refrained from cursing their fate,

Cheers up! Sitting under a torn umbrella we are mercilessly out of date.