Bag in hand
It is hard when caring, looking round
The man walks
In his hand a large bag
He fills it with apples
Those fallen on the ground; and plucked,
He is old; no income and no job.
I can see deep in him; and his life.
Only help is my sight…
Lava of volcano…and it burns…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem