Last night, i saw a poem lay down beside the dustbin.
Lay down beside a dog, wast product, beside the used napkine.
The poem don't know his identity.
Who is his creator?
Examine the DNA of the all poet of this world.
But no one is his creator.
At last we found that, the poem comes from the crying of a hungry child.
The poem comes from the sound of bomb.
The poem comes from the roler of capitalisme.
The poem comes from the speech of che.
The poem comes from the light of truth.
The poem comes from love.
There are no poet in this world,
They have no ability to create this.
It is the poem of unfotunity.
Feel sympathi for this unfortunate poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem