New Year

In the sun, in the rain Without umbrella A boy beside the road Works ceaselessly from dawn to dusk Breaking bricks into pieces. He entertains into his two eyes a dream Of merely three loaves of bread-- No rich dishes like korma and kabab, No princely recipe on the table. Nevertheless, he remains unfed In the sun, in the rain beside the road And pass his poisonous days. O the rich, do you think of him once? New Year sprinkles links of love Into the hearts of all. Collecting those links, you, the rich, Fill up your hands and eat up to your marks All the things you like best. Tell me, why does that boy remain this very day Helplessly unable to feed himself With a single handful of plain rice?