The hardworking man, after
years, it was found,
had never learned to read.
The criminal, the trial
revealed, had slept in
the bathtub every night,
in fear. His mother had
beaten him severely each
time he wet the bed.
The starving stray dog
left pawprints of blood.
We had tred on the sacred
ground of their suffering,
and so withdrew, humbled
and ignited to action.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem