For whom I plied the oars he slapped me
What a curse! All threat me because of poverty
Fly does not go to war with king's sword
Reckless poor I go with happiness of lord
O! God save my respect - path also can hear
Heart trembles with sudden death's fear
People say I am slave of king - work does not pay me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem