Life is good
More brown than black
He is Ethiopian
A friend.
Most hair lost
Has a shiny past; now
Walks with keys hung
From his sides
A store keeper in university
No more in Italian embassy.
“Life is good, ” he says.
He has changed.
Dreams are dead
Reality lives.
He has a small house
Two sons in the class
A job with insurance:
“Life is good, ” he says:
“What more do I want? ”
No more in Ethiopia
He is in Canada.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem