another diabetic
guy is dead in this
small town
a street is closed
and a gambling table
is put beside the
road
inside the house
a family mourns
electric lights
around the house are
kept open
the community
sympathizes with prayers
and the usual condolences
my house-help cleans
the street and
quips: he was not a good
man
despite the good that
we have done
that dead man
when he was still alive
said nothing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem