For in the hut, hunger came
striking us like the whooping crane
It flew in with its wings
flapping forlornly
like the treasures of the world
And beside, lay Mother weeping
then on the floor, Brother lay
dead like a breathless horse
dead like a rat
and skinned like a kwashiorkor child
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem, but I think you mean Four? not For..? ? dave