The Young Laborer Poem by Abdul Sattar

Beneath that blue sky
On the dusty surface of earth
Above the green grass, shine
The tears of night being shed
Hold of tyranny is every where
Beauty is always captive
Thoughts are all captured
Life feel sediment
Culture being classified
Wisdom being stolen
From the young worker
These hands so small and beautiful
Are being filled with scars
That heart is thumping for survival
Perhaps he is not fit for
Perhaps he will die of hunger
If he fails to be healthy
His hands can be eaten by machines
His boom can be lost by hardships
But if he fails to exist
This will be the end

Of all what he thinks about
His future is uncertain
His present is groundless
Grieves are his friends
His destiny is disappointment
But night, like an affectionate mother
Shed tears upon his weakness