Those lean legs of them,
pedaling for a living,
not tens and hundreds,
that pedal in Waikiki.
Those thin body of them,
hunch to push forward,
A few are sculptured,
The Gyms are not the reason.
The lungis, all are soiled,
torn and battered as the owners,
The shiny body sweat,
but they are not sun bathing.
Four hundred thousand rickshaw pullers,
in one part of the world,
struggle to carry the passengers,
what the Tubes of the rich nations do.
Human are not born to suffer,
still we let them to suffer.
Human are not born to lavish,
still we lavish on their sweat.
If at all economics has the conscience,
how can we justify the cheap labor,
exploited nations, wisdom of monopoly,
and a few billion invisible poor? .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem