Things once close to heart;
Are seen kissing dust
Hanging upside down
Inert, smeared with dirt
Look like ground’s clown
At the sight of which
People sniff and frown
And the rags picker
Rejoices and dreams
For tomorrow may bring
Fortunes to him
Picks up scraps from the filth
Lo! How to him
That brings up mirth
As if he has struck gold
Through dirt and mud
He is nearing God
And through filth and foul
From scraps and bits
He is pursuing life
To make it complete and whole
Strives for the Sun
Strives for the Moon
Strives for the Star
Ends up building castles in the air
A wanderer
Rags picking, still to him very dear
Is incensed to explore fortune’s share…….
How my Rag picker and yours rejoice on the hope of a new morrow! The two poems look like twins! Your rag picker strikes at gold and mine digs up treasures! ! Much we have to learn from these orphaned lives! A great write Deepak! Full marks!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
FASCINATING! The title of this poem drew me to go through and found the rest of the piece was embedded with passion and high hopes for the rag picker. What a beautiful portrayal of a hard life enriched by the wonderful verses of the poet. A favorite.10
Many many thanks........Rose Marie.......I am really humbled for you inspiring comment