None of my people want to read my stuff;
None of my people want to share my love;
None of my people see my heart ain't rough;
None of my people seek my 'treasure-trove',
How much I yearn that they should read my rhyme!
How much I long that they should share my thought!
How much I want that they should spend some time,
To think of God and improve their soul's lot.
Oh, how I wish that they read what I writ!
Oh, how I wish they love Nature like me!
Oh, how I wish they see God bit by bit!
Oh, how I wish they get Eternity;
My Poesy can heal the wounds of heart,
In better ways than any drug or art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem