Plundered on a cold street
beneath smirking sunlight,
I met a girl, unwashed and sleep-deprived,
who absconded with my limited monetary funds
and even more limited faith in humanity.
I managed somehow to collect
a few tattered scraps of self-respect
and escape down desolate streets
winding their way like an endless maze
of bemused cops and old ladies
shuffling for survival en route to second-hand stores.
Every disaster is a call to love and prayer:
I've never met someone that wasn't in some capacity
crippled and in despair,
so I just cut my losses and smile.
One day, everything, including myself,
will simply be forgotten in the forlorn nature of eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem