Afraid To Store Old Things Poem by Anant Yadav anyanant

The book of the world is not read, it is the world that teaches,
It seems that a great master would have told the meaning,
Once upon a time grew up in the lap, was standing in the courtyard
As long as it was in the pot, there was daily worship
Today it came out of the pot, saying that I have done my work,
If there was no irrigated gardener, how would the tree have been,
Seeing this, the old tree thought,
Even water seems to be a burden when the rain is unfathomable,
Build all the praises, the old man builds his friend,
The felled tree left the gathering on the pretext of sleep.
The growing tree didn't hurt, it didn't seem that,
Habit is like a big salary,
Damn the tree was cut thinking
Being me in the courtyard, he gives shade to the neighbor.
How did you think as soon as you grew up wise,
If I am old then I will not be
It will not pass on me who passes on that old man of mine.