On Poverty Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Poverty savours bitter,
So it is a thing unwished,
Upon whom it invades,
Makes them utterly worthless.

Sheet by sheet taking off,
It exposes inner of man,
Making naked, brings out,
Deformities and spots heinous,
Abhorrent, full of disgust.

Brothers, sisters and relations,
Who once heartening embraced,
Sneer, jeer full of hate,
Pointing out thousand faults,
Break all bonds of propinquity.

The world becomes a cage,
The life hard punishment,
Where a moment stretches,
As long as unending year.

The distasteful victual becomes,
Crispy, delicious and delicate,
Staking the whole entity;
The sufferers sell the characters cheap,
Neither they die nor breathe,
Pant between to compromise,
What is hateful and unjust.

Poverty leads to the path,
Dark, deep, amid the steep
Unending, winding around,
Leading to no destination,
Where blurring winds dust the eyes,
Where thorns forky and sharp,
Prick barefooted travelers.
The coiled mazy route,
Of misery seldom crosses,
The glorious road of riches.

After striking against the rocks,
Vibrating echoes become still,
Feeble cries reach no ears,
Changing bodies into ghosts,
Unabated miseries lure to death.

The fallen dried leaves,
Resist a little but they not,
To the gusts of wind;
They move to this on that end,
With the gushing blows.

The friends fly away,
As the birds do,
When the fair weather changes,
Who stands and who turns the tail,
It testifies faith in friends,
Strengthens fortitude, opens eyes,
Imparts wisdom but too late.

The calamities dark and sable,
Visit by their own accord are trial,
But those brought by fellowmen,
On the other are turmoil,
Outcome of violation,
Of the fair rules of God.

Fate is not blind and unjust,
That brings evils terrible on us,
The rules of God are just and plain,
He who is kind to great and small,
Inflicts not huge disparities,
We the avaricious become a cause,
When many get a little,
And a few devour the whole.