As I sat watching them eat
Tears plummeting out of my eyes
Running down on my chins
With little energy to wipe it dry
As hunger is about to slain me
How I wish my parents were alive
Working on the field
The sun rouses on my forehead
And setting splashing on my back
Covered in mud
Stinking on my underwear
My palm as hard as a nut
My face swollen by the bites of the flies
Yet I chose not to complain
For I am an orphan
My crime is the death of my parents
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful depiction of the deplorable condition of orphans, well articulated and nicely penned with conviction. Thanks for sharing Bakary. Please read my poem CHILDREN OF CRUEL FATE.