People want us to be like a fine piece of wood
Smooth and with a usability of multipurpose
While they themselves wish to be termites
To be eaten up slowly and silently from inside.
People want us to be sharp as the edge of knife
Not to cut their stupidity and ignorance into pieces
But to use us as weapons to cut their share of benefits
In the market of immorality and unethical darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem