Many a people do not live
They are just alive
It is not, believe, not a lie
But as true as the blue sky
Not that they can’t try
They are always lost in a cry
Over spilt milk and fry
Their enthusiasm in thoughts dry
Never take that this does mean
That they are weak and mean
They are as strong and clean
As each one in any clan
Make them understand and feel that
My things are mine
And they are like a mine
Unexplored and a lot remain
To be discovered and made fine
And that
My things are much more
Than what surface above the floor
Rigorous search brings them to the fore
As exercise only makes you sweat more
Teach them how to be assertive
Help them become sensitive
Quite sure, they grow positive
Productive and thus effective
The ultimate is to make everyone share
The things, they think, are rare
And only for them, and to prepare
The world enjoy the pleasure of being fair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem