At the crack of dawn, cocks crow
To awaken the diligent and the indigent
While at sunset, fatigue and mystique grow
When commuters knock off as rushing home becomes urgent.
At midday, hunger pangs bite
Stomachs big and small, fat and slim
As pancreatic juices and gastric juices fight
To gain a vantage point in a hungry mouths' team.
Midway through an afternoon, the affluent sip
A cup of Irish coffee and bite morsels of black pudding
Chewed with gusto when the tip
Of a gourmet's tongue and palate in glee sing.
Meanwhile, a ghetto dweller cuts slices of air
Accompanied by stomach groans
Familiar since infancy wondering how fair
Life allots fortunes, lumbering on the many hunger drones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem