It's just a flophouse
but it's all he can afford
and now it's come to this.
If he buys food
he can't pay the rent
on his blanket and cot.
Winter has landed and
Butch will throw him out.
With no place to sleep
why bother with food.
Another winter in Chicago
to sleep on the street.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem