O Bee! Poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai

O dear darling bee!
Far better than I.
You make sweet honey
I make gross money.
That heals dying beings
It poisonous thoughts brings.
Heaven has honey;
Hell tortures money.
You fly to sweet flowers
With greed I spend hours.
You kiss Nature's cheeks;
In a cage my soul shrieks.
You suck flowers' nectar
I eat stale matter.
You serve humanity
But I my unity.
Silent you remain
From noise you refrain.
I enjoy walking
Without work walking.
You miss no target
Often I forget.
Simple but strong
Work! work! work! your song.
O bee! take me with you
May I become man true!
May I make honey
Instead of money!
May I make something sweet
Tasty, healing and neat!
Let me a cell in your hive
So that I may there live.