People crying, weeping sorrowfully for the dead,
The coffin is carried quietly down through the cobbled street,
Only a child; too young to know the true meaning of hate.
There are people, standing, watching, staring, asking who is that?
A young child dies and is laid to rest,
The parents thought it was for a good cause,
But people ask, who's that?
They do not know just why she died,
In fact they do not care, they only know the cause was right to make her lie down there.
Only a child.
Do we care?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem