So prone-some in longing this community is!
Them honored erudite come dunning
a poor-self me!
Their keen tongue readily glisten
like alms on a golden cup.
I can see him too radiating charmis
Idling along ever though
In case I realized mendicancy around that infects
I inhibit that scene prompter of habit.
So many faces and so many hands without means
Has the milieu morphosed into beggar’s enclave!
I do not wish living on alms anymore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem