I am a child,
a little black boy,
Facing the world of inequality,
If only I had skin like snow
I wouldn't feel great pity,
My skin is dark as ebony wood
my hair as tangled as yarn
I stand alone in this world
I am the one who experiences harm
My appearance earns me all the worst
kicks, punches and thumps
and when I go home my mother asks;
'Why the bruises, cuts and bumps? '
But I don't speak, 'coz there's nothing to be done
I, Little black boy, have no fun,
I stand alone in this world
Where justice needs to be unfurled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the stigma of becoming indifference is always there...........but life must go on.well written jeong.