He died on a day so sunny and warm.
And was surprised to find.
That heaven was a farm.
It was his heaven in life and also in death.
Farm living was where he found more peace and happiness than wealth.
But it was only just a dream.
He was still alive and surviving on inner city streets so mean.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aw to street dwellers the farm is heaven eh. You depict that in the dream so poetically and lucidly in an interesting way. Kudos for a fantastic poem. Pls pleez do review/ comment my newest poem too, titled, 'bullfighters: the bull bullies'