Have eyed dire a life packed with storms.
Wildly, money whisked in air-vast sums,
Pains my home with intense heart drums.
All but tears, my wife flooding alone.
To my kids, I’m of tramp-trash tone.
Love to light them ought to be shown.
To discard not my heart-dear ones,
Must stamp a stop to gambling runs,
Must exit out those gulping funs.
Life adrift I have dwelled, I burn.
To a life spring-solaced, I turn.
Sun-living with my home, I earn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.