It was hard
Many roads I crossed
Over the sea and heights
On beast, plane, car and bus
I liked a dusty truck most of all.
Therefore I
Have seen rich and richness
Preachers and faithless
Poverty in its cores
The motive to causes of stillness.
Nothing kills
Nothing hurts
My heart and my brain
More than does the food waste.
And I saw
He wasted piece of dough
It could feed many mouths.
Best for me is to learn to shut up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem