With hands soft as cotton
A lazy man sits.
His voice echoes from room to room
sounding his complaints.
Reaching the ears of those to whom he speaks.
The echoes don't stop when he stops
Nor do they run when he runs
For he runs to the lair of excuses
And the echoes don't follow him.
They return to the ears of their listeners
And haunt them from the time the man speaks
To long after he stops.
The man says, "Get up. Do fine works."
But he does not do fine works
nor does he do vile works
because his hands are soft from idleness.
The listeners hear the complaints
but it does not move them to change
their course of actions.
They are irritated
so they stop listening.
They look at the lazy man from far away
as they sigh about his idleness.
They go back to their former deeds
Finishing their works,
And reaping the results.