The Portrait of a Blind Man

He looks charming in his black,silk suit;  
The radiant beauty of the porcelain cup  
Seduces him every day, without fail;  
The flavor of the Irish coffee hurts his tongue,  
But he still drinks it with fake pride.  
The dark walls of his lonely room  
Hide the puny picture of his soul;  
Now he has learnt to inhale the air of hypocrisy;  
As he loathes the freedom of the flowing waters.  
 
One day, when his regal wagon betrayed him,  
He chose to punish his virgin feet harshly;  
His sense organs that met the wild wind for the first time,  
Despised the cries of the simple hawkers;  
A herd of playful children crossed him;  
Their clothes were torn and soiled, but  
A piece of cake passed from one hand to another;  
The blind man gazed at their gleeful, saliva-coated lips;  
He ran towards his mansion to forget the wisdom.