Fate, you corrode my dreams.
I am still ignorant about life.
Fate, you made me to walk with torn wear.
You made me beg with my trembling hand.
They call me rotten face, without knowing my desolate life.
They don’t know I am begging with a poignant heart.
They stare at my ligature,
They burble about my half hand.
I implore to fill my faint belly,
Fate, you made them snigger at my face.
But I was happy,
When I gave my amassed coins to her.
She wrapped me with her malodorous hands,
Called me son with a shrieking sound.
It made me zest to beg for her a thousand times more.