i like to think that i owe no one a favor,
and so i refuse every opportunity
that i may derive when i give favors too
to another,
it is this way that this world looks upon
an investment
say of emotions, when one scratches your back
you too must give
her itch a scratch from you fingers
i hate this arrangement but this is how this world operates
mind you, i get tired too, having no one scratch my back because i
refuse scratching the back of another
at one time, i sit on the grass of a busy park,
looking and so blank and dumb, feeling that i am not a part of
this world, its rules not getting fit for my wholesome existence
away from independence into a world of flattery
and utilitarianism.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem