The more you sleep

The less you achieve.

The more you joke

The less you Know

Don't play and eat

Enjoying poverty

The aroma and tantalizing smell of the gutter

What an irony of life!

We adopt poverty

Like an infant who agree

To suck from her mother's breast

Without an option

What an ill-luck 

Our dead have prepared

a well ventilated land 

believing no more agony,

pain, perplexity

And no more dilemma in the land

Woo to the land

Who turn the ready made work to the dust at dusk

Worthy is the work

performed by the ancestors

just to enable happiness for the fotus

© ONEIRIC