Everyday my legs are going down,
now with the pain I can hardly make it to town,
everyone who looks at me calls me a clown,
but they don't know how my legs suffer, how day by day its
going down.
now that I am wounded, I am rounded, but there are some good friends
to me, in sorrow they never let me drown.
going down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good friends are friends for life...........till the end.Nice piece Savio.