It was when I counted my wallet
That a coin fell down.
It rolled down the granite to under a chair;
My eyes followed behind.
I, as any average man, bent down
And crept to my lost possession
Until a foot stepped on it.
‘Finders keepers! ’—that was his philosophy.
It was a bar, and alcohol smoked in the air.
Red visionless eyes sang drunken songs
And drunken minds danced like clowns lost in the dark.
Glasses slipped and shattered - the scent of whiskey red.
I looked on my enemy, drunk than me.
I demanded my rights in the boldest tone.
He spoke a silent no.
I spoke next with fists-tables broke, chairs crashed.
He plunged forth - we fought and wrestled;
We were drunk in beer, ego and money.
Clothes tore, blood spilled, bones nearly broke.
Giving up was not our ideal.
I hit that dog like I would have killed him.
I made way to my money, but before I could,
He kicked my fragile jaw-I was pinned.
The game ended – Mammon was pleased.
I collected my last inch of power, fired with fury;
I grasped the broken bottle, and dived
The blade to his chest.
The coin fell off his hand, his life off his body.
The crowd looked on in silent horror.
I gaped immobile. The blood accused me.
The coin shone silver in the blood stains.
One by one, I counted my tears fusing in the whiskey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem