The same air they breathe
under the one sky.
They share the light & darkness equally.
The same water they use
but the money-tree
never grows
in their hard bitten soil.
nothing richly built, on quicksand remains too long. hardbitten soil becomes valuable property... when that's all that's left to stand on.
Absolutely brilliant. Thank you for this piece, Nimal. I love it. Susie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nimal, unfortunately, money trees won't grow without rich soil... excellent write! ! Brian