No permanent abode to live
often a bagaband with none to give.
People in society have to install an address
everybody has to settle a place to progress.
rain or shine, a roof is must for rest and dine
much like a home where family gets along fine.
and yet there are those few who have nowhere
no place for the night to warm themselves there.
everyday they are on the run to various places
nesting any secure sites for a nap in day's races.
this kind of life is what a man gets being an NPA.
A man who has no direction often lost in the way
difficulties always what dictates his life each day.
drawn to blackholes he visions becomes empty
ridiculed apprehensions block his view of reality.
everything around him melts in torment and pain
self-demolition becomes a task to make life vain.
sees no dawn as though there no light being an NPA.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem