It was afternoon and month of June
The Sun shone full in the Asian skies,
Sending down scorching rays,
Enough to cause death to those who sleep,
On the cozy beds made of sponge.
Beside the public place, upward face,
I did see a corpse of a child lying
With belly exposed, legs stretched wide,
The arms folded on the unbuttoned chest,
Slight afar from the callous crowd,
Flies hummed around as if the Death Angel,
Had done his job early in the morn.
With chilled blood in the veins,
And fearful heart in the chest,
Riveted gaze at the frightening scene,
Advanced I timidly forcing legs,
Stood beside examining from top to toe,
And shook it from the sooty arms,
To certify belief occupying my mind.
At the jerk first he sprang up,
Sat, squatted rubbing the eyes,
Yawned, snorted breathing aloud,
To make me believe, he was not dead,
But it is pity he knew not,
He was a living corpse.