Running down alleys of life, wanting to end the poverty
being seen all through the night, people sleeping on
rags or cardboard boxes, no where to call home.
Wondering daily where their next meal is going to come
from, destitute and alone, not a friend in this world
it seems.
Walking by those who have nothing, always wondering
why no one cares about or takes them in, especially when
it's so cold outside or even when it's in the hundreds.
Why don't people take care of one another in this world?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem