She drags her body, an 80 year old
Arched back, minimal robes, out in the cold
Wrinkles covered every part of her skin
She was sick and pathetically thin
Almost blurred eyesight
Crossing road, was a fight
But for help she doesn’t ask
Tired and hurt though in her task
She raises her boney, soiled palms
May be she is asking for alms
Tightlipped she doesn’t talk
After a while she begins to walk
To the shadow of a small tree
There she sits dejectedly
To offer some money I went near
She raised her eyes filled with tear
To take the money she refused
Inside her she was confused
She was hungry and wanted to eat
I knew…but she did retreat.
Finally I asked…what did she want?
“I am not a beggar….so I can’t.
I was old and useless may be
Early today my son abandoned me”
“I am hurt and nowhere to go
To beg…I do not know,
Lying here I shall wait
Come soon death….don’t be late”
I turned back holding my tears
Her words echoing in my years
Next day heard some people say
“There’s a body lying down the way”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so moving, good naration, good rhyming. I marvel at your thought and at your skill of presentaion.