Does she have to bleed through her eyes? Does she have to cover the scars on her thighs? Does no one notice her dislocated shoulders? Does no one see her shiver as the weather turns colder? Do you look at her or look away? Do you talk to her or treat her like a stray? A beggar can ask for help but a corpse cannot.
From dawn to dusk The great beggar used to move from door to door, He was tireless in his motion, People poured plenty of corns into his big bowl And offered their spontaneous love and affection, The journey never seemed
With endless poverty gleaming in their eyes, Dreams, desires and will to live; Everything has faded to get fled, In a beggar; a living dead, A zombie on the streets. With an affirmative urge in hesitation, Cohesively willing to die
Beggar begs for alms with folded hands Corrupt demands bribe stretching his hands Beggar begs to fill his tummy Corrupt take bribe to blow up his tummy People cursing the beggar throw coin at him People fearing the corrupt give