When I was born and opened my eyes,
all I saw around me was poverty.
Our house was a little ranch with four chairs
and a jar full of water from the stream.
My parents were already elderly:
I was the last one of eleven children.
Everyone was forced to went out through life and the world.
I used to build carts with wheels of wood
and played with Negrito, my black dog.
Then,
we ate when my father get a job at some farm
or when my mother clean cloth at some family house.
In the most parts of the days,
weeks
and months our house remained without fire.
I did not have, also, shoes and clothes.
It was the cause why I was only three years at the school.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
terrible poverty, how it can kill a human being, all his aspirations, and desires and future visions..... you have powerfully expressed everything here in this poem. thank you very much dear poet.