A beggars world
At the end of the street,
lays a lonely beggar,
Fighting the hailstorms,
with no food nor light,
with no beds nor clothes.
He shivers in the cold,
and
burns under the sun,
There he lies...
At the end of the street.
To disembark on a journey,
A journey to his destined end.
Patiently he awaits for his life to end,
Dear oh dear,
there lies the beggar,
he waits for the scraps of food,
Fighter he is,
even a soldier too.
Yet there he is,
offering his delicacies,
to a stray with rumbling tummy too,
with a smile in his face and twinkle in his eyes,
the beggar lived his life.
At the end of the street,
was a beggar,
who's life is not worth living,
filthy and dirty he was,
yet he embraced life in a special
waiting patiently for his time,
His patience is yet to be granted.
so there he is..
At the end of the street.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem