Nothing hurts more than a harsh, unkind word
From the mouths of people unnecessarily frank and pert
Insulting others is to be avoided at any cost
Speak one sentence, and then you’re good as lost.
What urges people to tell stories about others?
Why don’t they treat all as sisters or as brothers?
How would they like to hear tales concerning them alone?
Wouldn’t they blame the world, wouldn’t they sigh and groan?
Its no use, my friend, you can never assure man
You can never, ever, gossiping in the land, ban
Man’s good at making a mountain of a mole-hill
Spreading false rumors, and creating ill-will
Ensnared by material benefits the world provides him with
Man, who is, by the urge to win fame, bit
Forgets all his manners – just brushes them aside
And is enveloped in a snake-skin of venom and of pride
Oh, where’s the land of our dreams in which we can take pride ?
Why do people revel in taking others for a ride ?
Why cant we be engrossed in our own joys and sorrows ?
A hopeful, expectant, wait for the morrows