Where do you come from my friend?
Do you find this corner comfortable?
Your child sits on the expensive paver block
Your wife covers her face.
You stay in the corner where streets of gold meet
The rate of your abode is in millions.
Yet you are always clad in simple clothes,
Your modesty knows no bounds.
Eyes half closed with sleepiness,
Induced by the weariness of work?
Or by the gift of Bacchus?
I often wonder.
Duelling with rivals unseen
Imaginary windmills you tilt at,
My Don your tales regale
All those who have the time to listen
You ramble on and on
Tales of Dragons you slayed.
The jungle which our cities have become,
With slaves remaining as all others have fled.
We have managed to trap a few parrots, you say
They are around you in gilded cages.
Imitating every word you say,
Pecking at the morsels you throw.
You rave on about injustice,
How inhuman life has become.
Why stay here then, I ask
You say you love it here.
You get yardsticks to measure
Your joy, your worth,
But of late it only shows how much more to do
Fatigue sets in for there is so much to do, you sigh.
Are you happy I ask
Taken aback, you seem disturbed
But soon the continence returns,
I am free here you tell me
The parrots roll over with laughter...