Poverty is not my family,
Nor lover,
Nor teacher,
Nor my brother,
And yet it follows me everywhere,
Like a shadow inside a shadow,
Poverty is not my prayer,
Or the song I sing,
Neither is it my answer,
And yet it haunts my dreams,
Poverty is not my teacher,
Not the hand I hold,
Poverty is not my anger,
Spirit or soul,
But yet it is there,
It is real,
It is alive,
It races through my mind,
Crushes my heart,
And rots my soul,
And leaving me deaf and blind,
Poverty is my constant companion,
An aching pain inside heart,
Threatening to push me down,
Down, down, down, down into the darkness
Poverty is my shadow,
My shadow inside my shadow…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem