THE HAPPY VAGABOND

The dazzling gleams of the sun cascaded down the hilltops

Gently caressing the hedges and the sturdy trees,

And then the day unfolded its wonders for the world to admire.

Cared or uncared, they fade away from sight as dusk advances.

The birds, after the day's ramble, retreated to their safety;

The trees and bushes dozed in deep slumber;

The denizens of the woods returned content;

But I squatted, contemplating my woes, in hunger.

I am a vagabond, fallen into the world, not certain by whose mistake.

Nothing grave have I done to deserve such a life.

Why is destiny too odd to the creation of the righteous God?

Why does life taste delicious to some and sour to others?

The moon is an end to the travails of many;

The eerie noises of the crickets don't reach their eardrums.

My night is rather growing from dark to the darkest,

And I am lost in dreams that never let my eyes sleep.

Today's neglected pauper is tomorrow's acclaimed lord.

Even the tiny worms of swamps taste happiness;

Little maggots sprout wings and sail high;

The newborn calf stagger and stands firm on feet;

The latent seeds come to life, budding new leaves;

But this growing phase isn't meant for me, a tramp.

Yet I keep the greatest gift, even in my plights,

Unlike the cowards who end life failing to confront it.