When I considered how my wealth is spent
Ere half my days in this devilish world and occassionally kind
And that opulence which is death to hide to my accent
Do not lodge with me unlavished for those spined
Being a philantropist, the cripples all came unrest
There are times I condemned egotism and fined
Nothing I dreamt or thought volumenous for the future await
I thought, that was all like life when satisfied
Now do I thought of travelling in disguise may be with care
The then poorest might help when stranded in city
Where I laid shivering do I recognized one, pleading for care
Place to hide, they shunned me ipsofacto they showed no pity
I ruminated the past, do I thought of showing misanthropic concerns
Since the 35 years yields no efficacious changes on this my forlorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem