When a child cries for toys,
It isn’t because
He wants to play with it.
He doesn’t even know
How can it be played with?
He wants it just because he is curious.
But look at us, modern, grown man.
Why do we want anything?
Because it’s a source of pleasure.
Do we remember when,
Serving our selfish desires became
More pleasing than serving our curious soul?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem