God is seen
At the turning point of Manhattan
He can't speak
He has no hand to support Himself
He can't walk either
War has destroyed His heaven.
He has no place to live in
A poster is hanging around His neck
The poster says, Oh my creation
Do you recognise me?
I am an orphan
On the burning street of this planet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem