i was walking
along a busy road
of this village
where the sound of
squeaking bikes
abound, and
this old woman
carrying a basket of
fish
stared at me, i
was carrying a book
and an umbrella
it was sunny and
the old woman
stared at me, perhaps
i guess, he must
have missed his son,
perhaps his son
stopped schooling
enlisted himself as
a soldier
because there is no
more money
to spend
for his tuition in
school....
perhaps, his
son died in
combat, and perhaps
his son once had
a book.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem