...because others had it
you want it too,
you work to have it, work so hard,
connect, have a network
you push
you pull strings,
even at noon,
when the heat is
painful,
(deep within you you do not need it
you can live without it, you are different from all these
ambitious
selfish, power takers)
then, you finally get it
but then, when you prepare to go
dress yourself well, comb your hair,
put some smile in your face,
you finally face the truth that this thing is giving you harm
and never good
this arrogance, and
conceit,
and then, you surrender,
throw away
that which you have worked so hard for
you are old now,
and there is no more time left for you to be
real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem