How humble is the book!
How kind, how humblest!

We nudge it; we fling it.
We carry it anywhere,
Sometimes without attire.
Oh! It is in full-blown winter!

We take it; we place it.
Anytime we open it.
Oh! It is in sultry summer!

Our foolish mind we paint on
Outside, inside; it is our will.

Have you ever heard it groan
Or grouse against our merriment?
It never does; it never wiil.

Should not we then change ourselves
And promise for its. Better life?
That  always gives us light in every tunnel
And makes us stand on the zenith!