For how long 'll the poor sigh
In grief and agony encore
Before a helping hand is offered.
Breathing out pains and moans
Of a host of woes encapsulating
Him like a dreaded disease, whose
Aim, is to extinct its victim peacemeal
For the arithmetic of life
Has been most unfair to their lot
For it flung them at the lowest ebb
Of a miserable tide of existence
In which lack, pain, agony and
Want are their only companion
But happy tarry they in this misery?
Waiting for the still small voice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem