'Five for two dollars, two for one! '
Yelled the ones in straw hat
Men, women: aged, riped as the vegetables they sell
Wilted, weathered, leathery, tanned melon skin.
Twenty five below in February, well or sick,
Sunday, Easter, Christmas: everyday they toiled
By their stands at the street corner, they always stood.
'Lettuce, chilli pepper, spearmint! '
Very few foreign words, living in a foreign land.
They have crossed the countless rivers of tear,
Overcame mountains of back-breaking chores.
Have yet any regrets for the gut wrenching farewells,
While away from ancestral tombs beyond the Eastern seas,
Their souls closer to the yonder Yellow Spring.
Lettuce, chilli pepper, spearmint! ' Very few foreign words, living in a foreign land. They have crossed the countless rivers of tear, Overcame mountains of back-breaking chores. Have yet any regrets for the gut wrenching farewells, While away from ancestral tombs beyond the Eastern seas, Their souls closer to the yonder Yellow Spring.A great write.(Part-1) - -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
- A deep empathy flows in every line of the poem for them who toil day and night as vegetable vendors to supply vegetables nearby our doors , yet they remain in perennial poverty.(Part-2)