Soon you’ll be mine

Along the street, A beggar pleads, For else than air, To ward off, 
The misfortunes, Of hunger clinging, 
In his body, Like beasts, Stalking a prey, Fighting, 
Against one another, Killing the weak, Exhausting the victor, Leaving the prey, 
Unharmed and safe, And the beast says, 
“Time will come, 
Soon you’ll be mine.”
Now the beggar, Writhing in pain, 
From the pangs of hunger, Still pleading, 
Says to himself, 
“Soon I’ll have some.”
A day of wandering, Of fruitless voyage, The beggar retires, Hapless in a corner, 
Of the lost street, Musing, His mouth watering, 
Dreams of dishes, Like a gourmet, In a banquet, 
Satisfied, relieved, All forgotten, 
Hunger loses the game, 
And the beggar, Droops to sleep, 
Death says, 
“Time will come, Soon you’ll be mine.”