A beggar’s Diary
In deep sigh, a flashback
To experiences observed
Again he sighed in rage
As to the kind of person he be
His face as frowned as folded fries
Like that of a night soil man
His hard harmful hand
Like that of a still standing status
He looked and nearly yelled
At my poor pleading palm
Yet, I saw his overloaded pockets
Along he dragged on
Under the weight of plenty
Under the weight of poverty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
poverty and plenty this is good kip up