As good and bad have come and gone,
The humble plant continues on.
Bore in the earth it made its way,
From the orient to modern day.
Out of the soil its cast to its hansom pack,
Serving the best, and the ones who lack.
Awaiting your grace at the early dawn,
To serve the needs ye may set upon.
The modest bag to the amber flow,
No revered image it may know.
Like a loyal steed at your side,
Carrying you through the tides of life.
Through the rough and the harsh or the blissful and calm,
Taking all corners while warming your palm.
So when we re all dead and gone,
Be sure in the knowledge that our friend lives on.
To help and serve whoever asks,
Bestow unto you so many thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem