Waking up from bed from what I could hear
From the honking of cars whose sound deafens my ear
Walking down the road, one could die
From the bullets which pierce the sky
As I kept walking, I saw a brutal fight
Gasping smoggy air as he was strangled with might
And I clutched my jacket, my fingers very tight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem