once he pitied the poor
wanted to take them all from
poverty
like weeds from a garden
where he dream
only of flowers
then he mingled with them
lived with them
immersed in them
only to find out that they are
no less different
than him
they are kind
and must be understood
beyond that
kindness
at some point
as in any other case
familiarity breeds contempt
and he becomes
like anyone of them
suspicious, insecure,
greedy, and always
discontented
and they rob him
and killed him and he was
not able to tell
what was it that he hated
with the poor
i didn't know too.
i don't want to be one
neither do i wish to live with any one of them
nor immerse myself some more
into such a distress
we all have our share
of the chunks of this valley of
tears
again that is fair enough
rich or poor
same human weaknesses are there
this avarice, this greed
and to some extent
this capacity to go beyond all these
in due time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem