As soon as it turns midday
Suddenly the tree gets movement
Even amid the hot sunlight
Spring blooms throughout Â
In the struggle of life
 All the birds, scattered somewhere
Leaving their nest, as if planned
Gathers together at a time
Pushing the life cart of two wheels
Along with it
Stove, tin box, with a bar and a cycle
The bread sun rises there
With a leaf bowl in left hand
And bread in the right
He will be the magic vessel
 To fulfill the hunger
For the anxieties of hunger
In exhausted eyes
In the midst of the city
A personification of goddess of food
Bread, curry and a sweet meat
Pickle, dal, and parottas
An invincible
In the city of conjure and deceit
At the cross roads of sleepless night
What a number of suns rise everyday
We never feel but
 The real colur of the city we know
When the bread sun didn’t come
When his cycle stops rolling
Delhi city gets scattered,
 India Gate is the witness
(To the Delhi Rotiwala who provides food to thousands just for six rupees )
- Dr.Pattipaka Mohan
translation: Swathee sripada
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loved this one
Nice translation.It is like original English poem.