Let discontented men, learn from the poor,
Who smile despite the anguish in their hearts;
Hard-working all their lives for bread, succor;
Yet, struggling always to improve their lots.
No job is mean but honesty matters;
The vagaries of life tease them so much;
And scarcely clothed, that too in such tatters;
They wait with patience for God’s magic touch.
Yet, all the while, their faces wear big smiles;
Their hearts are moved by beggar’s cries for alms;
Barefoot in Rain or Sun, they walk the miles;
Their hearts are soft but roughened are their palms.
The Gates of Heaven are open to them;
Their poverty becomes their diadem.