Horrible the life of poor
In this world where money is superior
When are the few times, think of them
About the ones living in the slums!
Very few helps them
To rise and face the world
Where they may be great
Immatchable men!
The sorrow of poor
It has no limits
While we sit under the fan
On comfortable seats
On barren floor, they sit
And the cruelty of the heat
Comfortable clothes,
Change it at different times, the year
Nothing to wear
Almost they have
There are few, help them rise
Try to be the few
And help them rise
And all the Gods blessings
Will shower you!
It's not how much you have that matters, but what you do with it. Your poem is compassionately written. Your heart is beautiful. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello Athul this compassionate and well written poem speaks from your dear young heart...and your shining soul...thankyou be well. Love, D.