The Flower Girl.
The daily rose fades not,
She repairs, and stands,
For hers is no-man; s land.
She is conscious of her fate,
Yet she keeps open her gate,
An ad on the street she is!
The hungry masquerades tease,
The pimps eye their fingers,
Ah! the flower girl receives disease!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem