The Young Hawker Poem by Sandra Martyres
The Young Hawker
mid morning
walking under
the scorching sun
big beads
of perspiration
slip down his face
yet he continues
the young lad
has a mission
his wares to sell
before the sun
goes down
evening falls
his goods remain
unsold and
cold winds blow
in his direction
his morale
is very low
he will face
the usual beatings
from his master
now instead of
beads of sweat
there are tears
of fatigue and fear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 5:20:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I really enjoyed this one Sandra.