Hear the voices as they call out
Hear them plead, shiveringly, from without
In sorrow and anguish, hear as they cry
Their tears pour more, the more they dry
Crumbs off the table, that they feed on
No hope for tomorrow is how they live on
Each day, our eyes feast on their despair
They'd hoped their torn souls we'd repair
Give them bread, not the crumbs
Make them well, beat not the drums
Wipe the sweats from their eyes
Secrete their sores from hovering flies
Hear the voices, their sound faint
For too long, with this, we're acquaint
Shall we stand by and let them suffer
When these voices we could nurse?
Shouldn't we believe in kind acts we offer
And hope not that man reward us?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you have got a powerful poetic choice of words. This is dark and lovely.