Sitting under a tree, he is greyed and aged
With a few belongings lingering by his side
Motionless he seem as he stares across the street
His eyes sometimes seemed misguide
Murmuring to himself, as no one seem amuse
From his shame he doesn't seem to hide
I myself wondered why he is there
As I steps off from my daily bus ride
So in curiosity I walked over to the old man one day
As he tried to put his belongings aside
He looked up at me and asked why I am there
Because an old man I shouldn't chastise
I gesture in agreement to his beleaguered smile
As he whispers "one a man and twice a child"
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem