I was in dark
I believed the money I make could buy me
All that I need in lIfe for pleasure and peace
My body is now a playground of illness
and soul a prisoner of Trojan War in it
Now when everybody looks at me in scorn
And call me in despise 'miser' I regret
Had I spent enough on food and drink,
Clothes and merry-making
And for alms-giving
Regret is always at the end. A well expressed poem. Very touching.
By the time we realise the importance of other things our body and soul takes all the toll to earn money, thoughtful poem 5**
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Magnificent.....thank u, dear Poet.....