A man works hard, as if
To remove poverty in the world,
He donates several dollars off and on for it, and
He gazes then struts with puzzling,
He breaks heart of the indigent. Penury is more visible in the dark,
The despondent waits all night long,
Feels morning will never come;
When cock crows and sun rises,
He obeys his hunger and thirst. No desire to see function of life,
Being quailed and sad,
But immune and vulnerable to poverty.
Real generosity human to human,
That is feasible remedy of that!
It was the morning pray of his,
Far from the city and noises, quietly
When he kneeled on the side of grave stone of his beloved.
He did a ripple of conversation with himself, recalled: