she is looking at us
passing by the river
she has no fear
she is attuned
to her mother's beatings
her father's fists
that little girl in the middle of the river
stares at us
simply passing by on a wooden boat
she does not know what sympathy is
or even pity
she does not know what happens when
finally she jumps from the raft
to the depths of the river
she does not know what death is
where she will go
she does not call for help
even in pain
she does not know what it is to call for help
we never taught her
what sympathy is
what help is
we just left her as she stares at us
and we merely passed by her
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem