If hand is greased, no art can be kept clean;
The ‘canvas’ if greased, none can paint on it;
A corrupt society doesn’t want a ‘saint, ’
Men who receive bribes can’t have a straight Dean.
There is no compromise on health matters;
The learned quack can’t make connect diagnosis;
Imagine his treatment and prognosis;
In live’s test-drive, there can’t be defaulters;
Why must you blame the cook for the poor broth?
Blame thyself for the bad ingredients;
A candle-light will attract any moth;
Don’t blame the clouds for being light or dense.
There is a limit for corruption too;
Realize and avoid your Waterloo!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem