Washing Before Meals
Can you see the Pharisee washing his hands, full of pride?
Hasn't he, in his show-off, kept his honesty aside?
The one who called you for meals had his agenda in mind.
To prove you are wrong, in you some faults he wanted to find
With the cleansing of dishes, you asked, Do you peep within?
More than the dust and dirt, there are abundant scars of sin.
Seeming neat in visage, you told them, You’re like white-washed tombs.
From the pessimism brewing within you, cynicism fumes.
You press on lawfulness, you said to the pundits of law.
You thrust loads on the poor. You do not move even a straw.
Do you think that building tombs for prophets is your pastime?
In you, the pride of holding heavenly keys is in prime
Give away, you said, evincing kindness as a fashion.
Pretence and ferocity should give way to compassion.
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