In our house a bowl of fruit meant that somebody had a series illness and the fruit was for them alone.
Normally we couldn’t afford to buy fruit because it was too expensive to buy.
Often the fruit would rot slowly in the bowl, because the patient was too ill to eat it.
Our hungry faces saddened as the fruit rotted, but we were still not allowed to eat that special fruit.
You had to be very ill to be cared about in our house, otherwise their wasn’t the time to show feelings, was their too much to do?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem