A neon sign lights up their life as the night train trundles past
But in this world they live in, this sleep could be their last.
We put them down so willingly, never knowing why
To us their lives are worthless, who cares if they die?
Their home tonight’s a doorway, a cardboard box their bed
But that could be their coffin, if we should find them dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem