The street looks deserted
No sign of life and activity
From the threatening chasm
Emerges the worms and insects
In search of some fleshy morsel.
In the heap of debris afar lies
A cute baby with closed eyes,
The parched wind buries his body
Scratched and crimson, with sandy dust
In silent peace, he sleeps fast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem