Wednesday, 10 November 2010


I lived in the middle of books

Still I became lazy

I lived on the banks of the rice field

Still I became hungry

There were textile mills in my state

Still I became naked

There were beauty parlours in my town

Still I became ugly

There were wells in all houses around me

Still I became thirsty

There were police in my country

Still I was pained

Because there was paper in this world

I did not commit suicide.

By Ismail Meladi

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