The most wretched couple are they
Rags on their bodies
Hang like tongues of fierce goddess of death !
The roadside tree their palace
The clay pot by the trunk
Is their vessel of life
The dust left behind by car their face powder1
The mother earth rises
To embrace them affectionately
Shroud of dust over their beings
Throughout day and nights!
The affluent angels on the shire
The blood-suckers of the labour
The pot-bellied nourished by five-course meal
Won’t throw a glance at them!
Neither the speeding cars in the bazaars
Nor the line of stars moving above
Or the great sun or the moon
Won’t bother to offer half a glance!
The refined man throws a copper coin
Most grudgingly- that’s their all
The dry philosopher gives a fierce look
Interpreting it as their karma from past life!
Though the world is sans mercy
Not an iota of sorrow in the couple
Eternal satisfaction is their creed
They are most blessed!
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