Poverty Poem by Lambamayum bimol
Poverty
An old man
In a cold wintry morning
With his old wife sat on a veranda
The old wife told,
“ No food today”
The old man retorted,
Go and seek a means, I am going for tomorrow”
The old wife prostrated her legs
She said, “ I had a streak of good luck during my youth”
She murmurs and said, “ I am the poor squalor in this poor cottage”
When she turned back,
Her husband had already gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 10:33:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
