He stopp’d me on the street -
crook’d fingers cupped ‘round a china mug
slurred brown with age, cocked out towards me -
Spare a few pence? He spat and said.
I dropped a coin into the cup
He nodded his thanks and got up -
Over my shoulder, I saw him
Stroll hopefully into the bookies, just
minutes before they came in.
He slapped these meagre coins onto the desk
And clutched at his ticket, eyes fixed
On the screen above him
The horse came in at a 100-1
The bum never worked again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem