There's a little boy somewhere,
In this word, all alone
He knows so well, that isn't fair
But you'll never see him moan.
In the cold nights, when it's raining,
And the hot summer days,
He wears the same old clothing
He has nothing, but he prays.
Without family and no friends
He is peacefully surviving
Still his painful dirty hands
Never touched one tear of crying
This morning he woke up again,
Than began his own routine
But the time has past, he became a man
Who is thankful for all that he has seen!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.