As for none of us the we
and as for you and me.
My first impression when I saw
the wealthy person
walking down the street.
The window which is thought
drifts by like clouds of doubt.
Repave the surface of the streets
there all paupers meet.
Well! Da Da, Mothers daughter
sons, when God requires.
New mortar for the brick
straw the sticks a reason
of all sorrow mixed whom sorts.
I'm ordered to my knees to sift the dirt for bread.
The sad thing impure the brick and sick I'm lame.
And lane is where the sound of people fear.
And bad things, being wrong greed some made
we meet and being cruel, non- human feelings sort.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem