Crouching beggars stud the underpass
Like sprouting fungii
Their teeth clack in their gums
Spaced out with smack
Pus streaks the colourful palette
Of their sores
Hurry Hurry your frantic heart’s
A bird, dashing its wings against
The cage of darkness
The round eye of the sun
Leads you out to safety
Your fortunate life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem