In pursuit of one I wander whole day
“They’re mine I’m theirs” whom can I say
I’m frank & simple people don’t believe me
Their search is for those fetching stars from sky
To appearance, inner quality has lost ground
More praise, than natural beauty, make-up has found
There’re plastic banquets not rose in pot
In paper work, jasmine smell people have sought
Attracted to luxury life, we never think
It leaves thousands at starvation brink
Yet some wise men can distinguish
The original pure from fake rubbish
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