Reputations built might die or go waste.
Goodwill made might collapse or escape soon.
The trusted friend might turn inimical.
The beloved one might desert or betray.
Because the food we take everyday
Goes as faeces, we don't stop seeking food.
The joy accrued from the act of goodness,
Itself with the response is the reward.
04.07.2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem