The man sat down at his desk,
With his pencil and paper in front
Of him. He began to stare at
The blank sheet in front of him,
Wondering whether it had a purpose.
He stared at it longingly, and then
He put the pencil in his ear. He
Then began to think, thinking deeply
In the depths of his mind. The man
Began to think of everything,
Everything he saw. The a picture
Came to him-a Haitian of malnourishment.
As he saw this, he was inspired, and
He took the pencil out of his ear. He
Then began to write everything down,
Jolted from inspiration. With his
Inspiration, he wrote from his mind. His
Pencil brushed across the page, like a
Printer or a typewriter, as he wrote the
Fictional story about the Haitian.
He continued to write as he saw pictures
Of palm trees and the beach. He narrated
The Haitian's life, as he walked through
The city streets. The man described his
Poverty, his hunger and his thirst. He
Gave the young man a name, Tibo to
Be exact. The man described the riots
That Tibo had to take. He then concluded
The story, and his work was done. The
Man put down his pencil, and he
Would continue the next day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem