Only I am
In need of
A five rupee,
And I am worried
How can I eat
Dalma and rice
Without it.
Yet I see
They are burning
And throwing away
So many five hundred rupees
For nothing.
Perhaps they are thinking
Herein lies
Power prestige and
Such other things.
And they all are
Going away from humanity.
Alas, men
Where are you?
And what are doing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem