Why Do You Make Me A Beggar?

When I praise thee, my Lord, I forget to beg and plead, After exiting from your abode, I always remember what I forgot, I am a born beggar, my Lord, Nagging you to provide, What I want and need, When I am alone in my simple hut, My needs are numerous, Can’t be counted with numbers, My wants are shapeless, Can’t be measured with any device, I am a pestering seeker of alms, From the gracious hands of your palms, Those are rosy and pink as the blooms, Never folded not to donate and wipe, My tears, emerged through my attachment, I am a nomad, wandering in the world, To secure what I will leave behind, My happiness exists for a while, As my greediness enlarges in size, My contentment never contracted to be small. It expands as the balloon to float in the dreams, I am a cursed beggar, wearing pretty attires, Wearing false smile, yearning more and more.