Blisters on the souls of his feet
As he ran through the wide and open street
Running for the people he may never meet
But he ran through the night with his blistered feet
He ran through the day for 10 hours or more
His blisters burst forth and his toes were sore
And yet no-one questioned what he did this for
As he ran through the day and the night once more
By the time that he saw that the end was in sight
He had run for the people who couldn't fight
And he gave all the money to ease their plight
And ran through the day, and all the night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem