Empty banquets, unfulfilled,
situated in paths of those who
can't afford it's high-priced food.
Living alone, on streets of Phoenix,
finding change on the ground once in
a while.
Empty stomachs, minds full of thought,
none of it for prospering fate - just
empty-headed ideas going nowhere, for
there is no money to change outcomes
of daily life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem