Last night when the fire crackers were burnt at market squares,
And the dazzling lamps illuminated the concert halls,
Poor people wearing ragged clothes shivered under the open sky,
Then came out a rich man...
after dancing in the concert hall,
He laughed in a sadistic way...
running his hand on the windowpane of his car,
To remove the frost and snow dust frozen on the pane,
A homeless - half-naked man - snored like a lion,
He was as if the happy-go-lucky man, unmindful of chilling cold,
The Quake-bull touched him with the tip of his boot,
' Get up, make way for me, I have to drive home,
The homeless man was unmoved by the shouts of the bull,
He only buried his head under the torn and holed quilt,
And kept on snoring, pretending to be in deep sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem