Last night it rained
and the night before
when the soup kitchen came.
Nice people those
who hand out food
and listen to us
moaning and groaning.
'At how unfair'
that people pass and stare.
'Never mind dear
drink up your soup
it's cold out tonight
you don't want a chill
we can't have you ill'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem