With large eyes and holding a pan,
He begged for food and drink.
The rest of us didn't understand,
His predicament or need.
I looked down at him,
He sitting in a cloud of dust.
I offered him a story,
But he needed food, he must.
He looked at another boy,
His eyes to death did span.
He walked back and forth with a pan.
Yet no one really did understand.
The reality was grim.
There were too many of them.
The beggar boys in dust.
They had to eat. They must.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I offered him a story. The reality was grim. Wonderful writing with nice imagery.