A usual early day to work by her car
She saw a small child in streets holding an empty jar
The scene stopped her for a while
A poor little boy with his twinkly perky smile
wearing a ripped dim rusty shirt
yet enjoying life with all these hidden hurt
how could we take all these blessings for granted
When others literally lost a lot and still are chanted
She looked down her soul she felt so small
it is not the end of the road to rise and fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem