To pound the poor needs practice,
My praise is for the jumpers within;
Not in a million years do shapes appear,
For poor people to see the light of day.
Little men crawl and laugh incessantly,
Opening the gates of heavenly splendour,
Entering the regions most divine;
I see a blessing on the wall to matter,
The one of poverty is small on this wall.
Can the innocent ones perceive the salt?
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