She wore the scarf of the mist,
Stood at the corner for the death feast,
The life of foot-path and its cruelty,
O Poverty! , thou art life's reality,
Seen and thanked Lord as all do
At the same time felt disgust to self,
About the charity and religions,
What we have made! Where is humanity!
Ah! To be called a religious, it's so easy,
Although we know, what for we are crazy,
Our promises we have lost in the witty darkness,
We love to acquire, dignity with frailty,
Poverty womb! , thou art greed and lust
Everywhere humanity suffered with burst
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem