As I walk down
A trash-littered street,
The broken beer bottles
Sparkle like diamonds in the grass.
Sunlight falls on a child's hair
As she plays on the poverty square;
She smiles joyously no matter the unhappy odds
Stacked against her.
My mother's nurse,
Her father died a week and a half ago
Like mine four months ago—
I can no more mend her heart
Than I can my own.
Life more often than not
Leaves me broken and empty;
But I know if I slowly catch my breath,
I can make everything beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i think this poem is great. it has a Kerouac/Ginsberg type sound to it. just very straight forward observations, but with a poetic eye telling the story, ...a good poet can take the little moments in life, like beer bottles in the grass and impoverished children, and turn them into Gold and Angels. you have this gift. keep it up! !