The gipsy woman
With the poor
And humble gipsy girl-child,
I saw her
Carrying
The daughter
Kept on the steps
Leading to the post-office
And the girl-child looking blankly
without the tears,
Almost dried into,
Clumsy and dirty,
Ill-fed and ill-clothed
Sucking the milkless breast
Of her weakling mother.
I saw her
And could not hold back,
Tears welled up into the eyes,
Extended a monetary note
And went away thinking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem