The pauper was picking used
papers, plastic bottles, wrappers
in a big sack, laughing silently
or sometimes clapping with joy.
His poverty made him insane.
The pedestrians cast their look,
the man gave a sharp shook as if
to say- Yes, what you think of me,
I'm just that, not your cup of tea.
Suddenly, the paper-picker discovered
three pieces of bread in the bin.
Perhaps, it was from a well-fed house....
Taking it too close to his nose
he smelt its freshness.
It was good for the poor.
He was about to gobble it up,
a mad-guy appeared on the scene.
He stretched his hand.
The pauper feed him with
mother's care.
Both were mad.
The pedestrians were
sane
totally!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem