Very many nothing
Yet too many drops of water
From beneath the hair of my skin
Yet very many nothing
Too much work...much! work
Yet too little enter my pocket
But very many papers... academic!
But no penny...but much poverty
A anything by profession
Very many papers... academic!
But a charcoal seller like had got no papers
Few jobs but zillions of men
Be a job creator, not seeker
Just do what you can do
Then too much killers... very many sinners
But a corrupt judicial system
So mob justice every where
Yet there are believers every where
"One for himself"
"For God and their stomach"
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem