I never asked to be poor,
I never asked to shake the hands of death so soon,
I never asked to see this naked shore and smell its intoxicating perfumes.
I always wanted to be rich,
I always wanted to shake the hands of the one percent,
I always wanted to ditch this wretched world of mine to the very end.
If I exchange my pain for happiness, how much will I earn?
If I approach the precipice of sorrow, will I jump or will I be still?
If God is aware of my unbound suffering, then I think it’s goodwill for him to adjourn?
Faith is the only currency that I can afford,
The taste of poverty is bitter but I must continue my pursuits of something sweeter,
I must cut the cord of pity if I wish to someday be a lotus-eater.
The definition of a Lotus-eater: A person who spends time indulging in pleasure and luxury, rather than dealing with practical concerns. Thus, my attempt with this aforesaid poem was to flip that definition around by giving—a practical and unpleasurable issue like poverty—a lot of attention. Furthermore, in trying to achieve the latter parabasis, I made sure to touch upon some of the concerning issues/associations of poverty—like, death, the desire to be rich, faith, suffering, time, etc.