The Labour

A group of people get inside the bus,
Comes down from the bus.
They are about fifteen, with digging hoe, in hand.
The black people of village.
They are going to work, in row.
They are labour,
Mixed with soil, sweat and salt.
I can recognize their sweat and salt,
Sweat and salt of hard worker man.
I can hear their heart beat,
The heart beats of most ordinary man.
They made strong the axe of man,
With their blood.
They are man.
They enrich the moving history,
The evolutionary history of man.
They are man.
They are labour.
They are walking in row,
With digging hoe in hand.
I feel united with them.

Mousumi Guha Roy, West Bengal, India.

Mousumi Guha Roy's picture

M.b.b.s lady doctor. Writes in bengali. Writes also prose. Published 7 books. Resides in west bengal, india. Translates in english.

Last updated March 07, 2014