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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=569074" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem Of Poverty</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty, brothers, is a mouthful that's hard to swallow,<br>A bite that sticks in your throat and leaves you in sorrow,<br>When you watch the pale faces and rheumy eyes<br>Observing you like ghosts and holding out thin hands;<br>Behind you they lie, stretched out<br>Their whole lives through, until the moment of death.<br>Above them in the air, as if in disdain,<br>Crosses and stony minarets pierce the sky,<br>Prophets and saints in many colours radiate splendour.<br>And poverty feels betrayed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty carries its own vile imprint,<br>It is hideous, repulsive, disgusting.<br>The brow that bears it, the eyes that express it,<br>The lips that try in vain to hide it<br>Are the offspring of ignorance, the victims of disdain<br>The filthy scraps flung from the table<br>At which for centuries<br>Some pitiless, insatiable dog has fed.<br>Poverty has no good fortune, only rags,<br>The tattered banners of a hope<br>Shattered by broken promises.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty wallows in debauchery.<br>In dark corners, together with dogs, rats, cats,<br>On mouldy, stinking, filthy mattresses,<br>Naked breasts exposed, sallow dirty bodies,<br>With feelings overwhelmed by bestial desire,<br>They bite, devour, suck, kiss the sullied lips,<br>And in unbridled lust the thirst is quenched,<br>The craving stilled, and self-consciousness lost.<br>Here is the source of the imbeciles, the servants and the beggars<br>Who will tomorrow be born to fill the streets.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty shines in the eyes of the newborn,<br>Flickers like the pale flame of a candle<br>Under a ceiling blackened with smoke and spider webs,<br>Where human shadows tremble on damp stained walls,<br>Where the ailing infant wails like a banshee<br>To suck the dry breasts of its wretched mother<br>Who, pregnant again, curses god and the devil,<br>Curses the heavy burden of her unborn child.<br>Her baby does not laugh, it only wastes away,<br>Unwanted by its mother, who curses it, too.<br>How sorrowful is the cradle of the poor<br>Where a child is rocked with tears and sighs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty's child is raised in the shadows<br>Of great mansions, too high for imploring voices to reach<br>To disturb the peace and quiet of the lords<br>Sleeping in blissful beds beside their ladies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty matures a child before its time,<br>Teaches it to dodge the threatening fist,<br>The hand which clutches its throat in dreams,<br>When the delirium of starvation begins<br>And when death casts its shadow on childish faces,<br>Instead of a smile a hideous grimace.<br>While the fate of a fruit is to ripen and fall,<br>The child is interred not maturing at all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty labours and toils by day and night,<br>Chest and forehead drenched in sweat,<br>Up to the knees in mud and slime,<br>And still the empty guts writhe in hunger.<br>Starvation wages! For such a daily ordeal,<br>A mere three or four leks and an 'On your way.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty sometimes paints its face,<br>Swollen lips scarlet, hollow cheeks rouged,<br>And body a chattel in a filthy trade.<br>For service in bed for which it is paid<br>With a few lousy francs,<br>Stained sheets, stained face and stained conscience.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty leaves a heritage as well,<br>Not cash in the bank or property you can sell,<br>But distorted bones and pains in the chest,<br>Perhaps leaves the memory of a bygone day<br>When the roof of the house, weakened by decay,<br>By age and the weather collapsed and fell,<br>And above all the din rose a terrible cry<br>Cursing and imploring, as from the depths of hell,<br>The voice of a man crushed by a beam.<br>Under the heel, says the priest, of a god irate<br>Ends thus the life of a dissolute ingrate.<br>And so the memory of such misfortunes<br>Fills the cup of bitterness passed to generations.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty in drink seeks consolation,<br>In filthy taverns, with dirty, littered tables,<br>The thirsting soul pours glass after glass<br>Down the throat to forget its many worries,<br>The dulling glass, the glass satanic,<br>Caressing with a venomous bite.<br>And when, like grain under the scythe, the man falls<br>To the floor, he giggles and sobs, a tragicomic clown,<br>And all his sorrow in drink he drowns<br>When one by one, a hundred glasses downs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty sets desires ablaze like stars in the night<br>And turns them to ashes, like trees struck by lightning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty knows no joy, but only pain,<br>Pain reducing you to such despair<br>That you seize the rope and hang yourself,<br>Or become a poor victim of 'paragraphs.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty wants no pity, only justice!<br>Pity? Bastard daughter of cunning fathers,<br>Who like the Pharisees, beating the drum<br>Ostentatiously for their own sly ends,<br>dropp a penny in the beggar's hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poverty is an indelible stain<br>On the brow of humanity through the ages.<br>And never can this stain be effaced<br>By doctrines decaying in temples</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Millosh+Gjergj+Nikolla">Millosh Gjergj Nikolla</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=569074" data-title="Poem Of Poverty de Millosh Gjergj Nikolla" data-description="Poverty, brothers, is a mouthful that's hard to swallow,
A bite that sticks in your throat and leaves you in sorrow,
When you watch the pale faces and rheumy eyes
Observing you like ghosts and holding out thin hands;
Behind you they lie, stretched..."></div>
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