Did nothing
His age was almost mine
Semi-bald, beard white
He climbed the stair
Got to door, rang the bell
Then took back some steps
Looked at door and waited.
I was filled with questions:
Who is he, why here?
The Day of Canada in July?
In this time and in shorts?
And I watched, surprised
Marching thoughts in my mind.
His waiting was useless
Leaned forward knocked frame
And backward went again…
Hopeless and broken
Climbed down
And waited
No reply
So he went
Looked to left and then right
Could not think or decide
Walked eastward and stopped
Took file from bag
Looked at it and put back.
And I watched
I swore:
"F…this life! ! ! "
Sympathised
Empathised
Did nothing
I just watched
Broken with tears
Anxiously I cried…
"The best for an old man is to die…"
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem