Ask what is more miserable than being poor
And the answer comes-only poverty pains like poverty.
Poverty, the cruelest of demons, deprives a man
Of every joy in this life as well as the next.
That poison called poverty will destroy at once
The honor of ancient descent and the refinement of speech.
Privation produces unmindfulness which gives birth
To improper words, even in men of proper birth.
This one affliction called poverty
Brings in its train a multitude of miseries.
The poor may perceive profoundly and speak skillfully,
Yet their meaningful words are always forgotten.
Poverty, destitute of all virtue, estranges a man
Even from the mother who bore him.
Will wretched poverty which is kiling me so
Come again today as of yesterday.
Men may slumber eben in the midst of fire,
But none can find repose in poverty's presence.
Having become fatilly impoverished, let a man fully renounce,
Lest he fatally exhaust his neighbor's vinegar and salt.
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