Who is truly poor?
The person with hardly any riches,
Or he who is dark inside,
And yearns like Macbeth for more.
Poverty is just a fleeting abstraction,
It's our selfless nature,
That can turn our lone home,
Into a place devoid of unwanted mystification.
Being literally charitable is what we must dream of,
It's there in the heart, bit honest search is enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem