I saw the wind
When she blew as she hurled herself
against the bridge
Like one before a savoury meal
Accompanied by pneumonia
She burrowed deep the ribs of
these ones who made the bridge their home
And forced to live like refugees on their fatherland
By the cruel hands of poverty.
Being neither a richman nor a poorman
I hide my face in shame and sadness
I couldn't do anything for them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Against the bridge! Thanks for sharing.