LOVE, THE ONLY CURE

We are on earth subject to cruelest harm
And live among the teeth of luck and health.
We work so hard in mines and on a farm
To supply honest living and small wealth.

Tell me about a man without much care,
Or lives with smiles on face coming from heart.
Who does not say if he were strong or fair
Or had a greater wealth that brings delight?

We work like slaves between the huge mill stones,
And seek a narrow path to shun blind death.
All work is done but none the flesh atones
As nothing can cure from fast time and death.

From work to toil, from age to death we move,
Aspiring to what worried hearts will soothe.
Nothing can save but deepest care and love,
That all life's gloom a merry dress can clothe.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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