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A Handicapped Beggar by the Street
Folder:
Bye: Twenty-line-poems
Alas! There he is,
The crestfallen beggar in his thirties,
Lying by the street,
Whom none ever cares to greet.
He has lost a hand and two legs,
As if a tree with no leaves; he begs,
Perhaps it was written,
Before he was born even.
He doesn’t bother about,
Nor at the scorching sun does shout,
Storms can’t gift him with pain,
Nor even the rain!
Since he has a stomach, rebellious,
He must beg on a daily basis thus,
I wish I could translate and sort out,
His thoughts to know what he thinks about!
Perhaps he begs ‘death’ daily,
From the Almighty,
Perhaps he wants not to die at all,
The world is beautiful after all!
