The Essential
A dove sits on the window ledge
telling me of the lack of crumbs asks me for help
to open up the pavement cafes.
There is so much need, like in Yemen, the nice
actor has been telling us about, and Iraq it has
an enormous camp of the offspring and the wives
of what the ISIS, left behind to starve.
No country wants them; the flotsam can have hate
In their hearts, we have enough trouble as it is.
An orange falls from its tree and rots,
we are a world of plenty, and many go hungry.
My words of lament feed no one, but I will take
note of what you said and turn my back
look at a blank screen and thinks of breakfast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem