When you have money,
people would ask
how are you?
When you don't have,
people would ask
who are you?
Strangers would be your
friends, fair weather only.
Lack of it makes them
abandon you variously
Beg, borrow or steal,
money is earned;
money that comes to hand
by honesty is
the finest path in sooth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem of great insight. Liked the ultimate stanza.