Walking down back alleys, thinking of thoughts not usually
present in the light of day.
Watching the lives of many others as they lie in alleys,
no where to call home, eating from garbage dumpsters and
searching for trinkets of coins to trade for booze.
A sad, sorry lot, doing nothing to bring themselves into
another space of time where they can become viable people
again, providing a particle of life to others and themselves.
Only wasting away instead, seeing nothing in their futures
anymore, preferring to be alone in their misery and never
knowing anything else can be had in their lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem