No one can sell your poverty,
Without your consent, dear men.
But it is you,
Who is there to sell for nothing.
And what is your poverty?
Your starvation?
Your unemployment?
No, not at all, dear.
It is your mentality,
Your mental status,
That how you treat yourself,
That how you treat your mother, and
That how you treat mother language as
Inferior and not superior.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem