Respect

Is a man judged by who he is,
Or by the wealth he earns each day?
More often income wins the crown,
And earns the praise that comes its way.

Respect, honour, fame, and pride
Seem tied to fortune’s rising tide;
The more the riches one can claim,
The greater grows his social name.

Just as a phone falls powerless
When its battery fades away,
An empty-handed human too
Feels weak and lost along life’s way.

They say that money is but dust,
Not everything beneath the sun;
Yet those who speak these noble words
Know well that wealth still counts for much.

When billionaires become the poor,
The world responds with pity’s gaze;
Their fall from heights to humble ground
Becomes a tale for many days.

A king turned beggar overnight
Sees every friendly glance depart;
The eyes that welcomed him before
Now turn away and guard their hearts.

A moment is enough to lose
The honour of a fallen man;
The towering dome of pride collapses,
However grand its former span.

Respect departs from social circles,
And even family may change;
A wife and children sometimes look
With distant eyes, cold and strange.

The giver, once admired by all,
Becomes the one who must receive;
How quickly fortunes shift their course,
How swiftly people’s manners leave.

It is income that earns respect,
Rarely the person standing near;
Whichever path increases wealth,
Brings greater status year by year.

— Vidya

Translated by chat gpt