Work, a duty, one's accustomed means of livelihood,
Devoid of it, everything seems to be lifeless,
When done for others, amplifies the sense of brotherhood,
A gift, teaching us to get rid of slowness.
"Work is love made visible", so uttered Kahlil Gibran,
Warning us not to devalue ‘work' of any sort, but adore,
The precision will drench us with the ray of heavenly sun,
Move heaven and earth and chase those yearning for more.
It is work alone that is verbing the world, indeed,
A core literally seizing both the plant and the seed.
-I have used the word 'verb' as a verb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem