Water simmers on the stove
Grater is turning to pieces, a dry clove
Eyes shimmer with vapour at the door
Outside, enjoying with smells, a beggar
Inside intestine is being cut with dagger
Life is such a mirage with darkest craze
They are fit, meadow green they graze
Aftab Alam
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poverty-78/
