We just some little dogs
who howling and wander,
Seeking dreams in the darkness of the nights
For a scrap, to repel the hunger
For a bit of sleep, and escape to dreamy world
We know
We don't have place in the day to wander
When the desolation is clutching the night
And the moon, Quiet in the sky,
Around, Crawling into the corner's and sewers
To the places of darkness
Crouching in the pitch black night
When the eyes lurking,
And despair is haunting
Without a stop
Even if legs become bones
We won't stop
It's what we've been done,
It go on.
What thing to done!
For a life!
Avoiding death, we want to live by.
We won't care
About the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem