Sitting here around 9 am
Watching faces scrupulously
passing by
what a rare collections feeding
in my mind
I don't know their names
My two comrades were in silence
I knew they had rare collections too
in their minds
Recalling faces, storing strange identity
for future use, interests, connections,
what a rare collections in our mind!
People wear unsunken cheeks
some with clean-shaven look
some look like corrupt
and alleged graft
and ready to throw artificial greetings
What for? What for?
the innermost question I can't hide
inherent from birth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem