If the sun is gold, to be found
In the sky with clouds—high and sound,
Then every mind seeking wealth there
In doing so as each may care
Then will look for ways to ascend.
Even try to have wings extend
To reach up there without delay,
To consume as much in their way.
If minds are adept to do so,
Will their deeds cease the sun to glow?
If that happens, what is the fate?
Will life keep on to generate?
Will the dark plunge minds to doom?
There has to be when minds must groom
To dwell in kindness forever
For harmony to live longer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Novel in imagination, subtle in message. Avarice itself is the doom, and the greedy are doomed even before trying to reach and mine the sun.