Alexandrian Sonnet 18 Poem by Alexandrian Ink

Most people in residence outside the village
That life has painted as one born with silver spoon
Always have this perception of some unhappy visage
Who are planting plums to quench their live soon.
And it is true; so he fled completely
From the geographical point where his village is;
Perchance when cometh he, his affairs are done briskly
Lest that he will be their prey if he tarries.
That village people are envy people, it's everywhere,
Jealousy is attached to everything that is good:
Setting trap as a hunter who wants to catch a hare
But it's just to abridge the young man in cold blood.
Whether in the village, town or city, death is certain,
Those who run away from death, meet death in great pain.