It is different then from now a begger comes,
where I live now snow that never falls.
I seldom speak,
but word's that when they come, cause
they whom fill an empty hand a look that
few can meet.
Where I used to hide no other's dwell,
each city has pulled up and killed
the bushes and spaced the trees to wide
to keep the rain off of our heads.
A poet's lot in life in any life if poor
without their love of mind,
An early death the elements can find.
A beggered poet looks away in shame,
his daughter left behind
to young to know what he gave up,
for her to read and one day find.
A heart that's full of love cannot sustain
an empty mind,
or that beggered voice she one day hears
When that voice is mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem