Remembering people from the past,
noting their individual aspects on life.
Sometimes filled with religion, sometimes
ragged and forlorn, bent in a drunken
stupor and losing a life of respect and
dignity.
Bluened clouds fighting back tears.
Trying not to cry while watching an old man,
stumbling up the stairs, dropping his keys
to the ground.
Turning around, sitting on the step, head in
hands, crying like a baby, because of all
he's lost in his life.
Because of drinking without thinking beforehand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem