I watched a man die today
swollen fingers turning yellow
in the burning sun
he was wearing a winter coat
the pain struck his leg
and he went on his last walk
no one minds the dying man
just another stranger
a junkie and an outcast
on the streets of Kiev
I watched a man die today
a young boy sits down on the stairs
where the man used to sit
he is protected by his sunglasses
hands that are yet healthy
no one minds the boy
the boy
that watched a man die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem