We round a corner
and look down a web of dark alleys.
On either side old stone buildings
stand as they have for centuries.
Nothing has changed!
We are well-fed tourists
looking for the exotic.
We snap our pictures
of the dirty cobblestones,
and the dirty houses,
and the dirty children.
Our guide says,
“Don’t touch the children.
They have lice.”
We move on.
We have not touched the children,
and they have not touched us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And we are saying we are civilized we are learned. And this is our time! I invite you to read my poems and comment Stepansky,