My Sweat
MY SWEAT
Educated in English convents
They made cool abodes
As their working precincts
Lawyers, engineers, doctors
Computer laurates
And smart bureaucrats
All this lucky lot
Living at money jetting fountains
Are devouring their fortunes
To downright fulfillment
I followed my father’s school
By going to the paddy fields
And dredging eight hours
For a mere fifty rupees
I never grudge my affluent brethren
For taking away every grain
Of my hand-grown produce
Leaving me with broken-rice porridge
Nor the wind and scorching Sun
For sapping my vim
With their incessant simoom
But only rue at my drawback
That my profuse, ever-oozing sweat
Is not fit to slake my thirst
Sathya……
poem by Sathya Narayana
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