In the wake of morning
while you begin to open your day,
It's just begun to close for some.
The slow turn begins as feet stamper past.
Most don't hear the off-beats tredding behind...
It's them, echoing in a long train of disparity.
I see through swollen eyes these broken,
fragmented piles of sadness on two legs.
Does your heart break for them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem