Four storey apartment,
and fourth floor window;
on rent,
a new tommorow.
From above you see,
down lies a lorry stand;
an occasional breeze,
and labour's hand.
White, black, and red,
stories unheard;
broken hopes,
and shattered dreams.
Two time bread,
and one time tea:
I don't feel,
a dog got his meal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem