North Vietnamese Tragedy: Famine Of 1945 Poem by Phan Thanh gian

I'm only twelve:
Sir, ma'am can you spare me some rice
My mom is lying on the street over there
My baby brother still tries to suckle,
While mom is waiting for Death to spare her hunger
Dad was clubbed to death... for stealing rice

The field is bare:
It's so quiet, not even a song bird or insect in sight.
My stomach is too weak for any solid food,
The walk from my home village was long and arduous.
Corpses lined the sidewalk but nobody to bury
Black crows circle high above... waiting