Man spends his time to make his life secure,
And gathers wealth to tend to future needs;
For this purpose, he will all things endure;
To anyone's directions too, he heeds.
His life-time lapses in this exercise;
His energy too ebbs as old age nears;
His lucre takes him towards much more vice;
And in his last few years, he has hell's fears.
May be, he spent his life on earth grandly;
Did all his earnings make his soul secure?
Discontent man, he leaves the world sadly;
His place in Heaven is very unsure.
Our soul's security is our prime task;
And Heaven doesn't allow persons with mask.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem