Our living
Itself is foolish.
We are in illusion
In the eternal sky.
The object of our life
Is delight and
It is there
In the reality.
Reality is
Our attachment,
Initiated in
The family itself.
Our politics, our economy
All are our source of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All are our source of life! Thanks for sharing.