I know that people who see me
Think that I am partially insane.
There is nothing wrong with me inside.
I was one among eleven brothers
Who shared a father of prosperity.
My father left each of his sons some legacy.
He left the estate, properties, stocks, cash, bonds, and business
But the debt was mine.
For I was the artist
And my father, a logician
Who could not bear my bold resistance
To medicine, finance, and the law.
He could not fight me while I lived
But he had his vengeance when he died.
I was penniless and poor
And my wife was ill.
It was for her that I went far from home
So that I could make money as a peddler
Where the debtors of my father could not find me.
I know that people
Just make up their minds about others, and label them as
Crazy, rude, unfriendly or however else they please.
But they do not know
What people carry in their hearts.