Lost in this cold, cruel word
No where to go
No Love to he found
If only he could understand
Rising before sunrise
Thirsting for a taste
Scrambling, hustling, begging
Running from a past he can't erase
Living in alleys
Living on subways
Living in poverty
Living just day to day
He’s a troubled man
Misunderstood and all alone
No money, no friends
No place to call his own
No reason to succeed
No encouragement to gain
He has his warm and half-filled bottle
Only that can ease his pains
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem