He is happy about his freedom
He wore his Golden Rag with love
He walk on the street like it is his kingdom
With is worn-out boot.
He shout and Jump for earned coins
He feel like a God in front of the barman
Oh! how rich i am, he exclaimed even in ruins
His family in their coat of many colours.
He got home and hugged his wife
Called her the queen of their patched huts
He never believe he was poor
A free man his never poor
But he was a slave who must take everything the way it comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem