Another Side of the Planet
For the homeless
The rains are a calamity
Fresh wet fragrance
Soon becomes soaking wet
Chill and cold set in
Thoughtless polis and people
Ignore their plight
For they are lazy and redundant
Idle and cheeky
Pay them little attentiion
Perhaps the rains will
Clear them away
They might catch cold and die
We need
Much more rain
To wash the guilt
From our indolent souls
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem