After Valentine
Roads are wet,
The sky is covered,
Sky's king wears a veil.
No cars, no vehicles,
Just a few, too random.
But homeless,
Almost soaked,
With worn shoes,
Patched garments!
With a wrinkled forehead,
Surprised, I question:
"Are we in Eritrea?
Gaza, or South Sudan?
Afghanistan? Canada? "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem