Born Poor Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Born poor

He was born poor
Brought up by neighbors
Whole life he labored
But not a second m happily snored

He struggled
And led
Miserable life
Like on sharp edge of life

He did not complain
But maintained
Sanctity of mission
He was never in confusion

Poverty was not curse
But hard life of course
He struggled for to square meals
People lied to him and showed moon unreal

He was not misled
But believed
Life was not kind to him
So he expected nothing from Him

Life approached
As he reached period an autumn
The leaf was to fall down on earth
The sound sleep was waiting for him in form of death