I loved roads,
A hobby since old times,
Every road was known
To me, broad roads, narrow roads,
Long roads, short roads,
And the roads without a rhyme.
But I knew a road, a road hated by me
For it was too eerie, too loud;
Cries, screams and shrieks of beggars
In the air, cruel road, creepy road,
"St. Vagrant road" I shouted aloud.
Never should I step on it-
I thought, but one fine day,
The good roads were blocked away,
Blame the new King's hail,
So I took St. Vagrant road
And walked on it, like every day.
Screams, cries, shrieks
Of beggars lined up by the street,
Naked, all of them,
"Dear lord have mercy on them".
Men pass them by, letting them die
As no one throws a coin,
"They can't get crueler".
The screams get louder, the cries get louder,
Still nobody throws a coin,
"Bastards, they can't get crueler".
So with mercy in my heart
I walked ahead of the bastards.
Stopping by a naked beggar,
I smiled, he smiled back;
Beamed, gleamed his face,
Then money was sought,
And with mercy in my heart
I go for a coin.
Empty pocket! Empty pocket!
My heart shouts aloud,
Louder than the screams,
Louder than the cries.
A moment of deep thought-
Bills I have to pay,
Payments I have to make,
And so to the beaming beggar I said
"Sorry my friend, some other day"
And walked away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.