Aleacia in his plastic shelter
Sitting in the sun and rain
sitting through the night and daytime
By the Embankment drain.
Like brilliant coloured jewell
a butterfly, exotic, strange
Aleacia's made his kingdom
By the Embankment drain
Once his life was full of hope
But all was lost in grief and pain
Give a thought, a look, a dollar
To Aleacia by the drain
Then he did the best he could
Taking things just as they came
trying to make the best of living
On the bank beside the drain.
Waiting for his time to run out
Hoping for his luck to change
Raising up our fears and pity
By the Embankment drain
So he sits there in his glory.
Has his life been lived in vain?
Will he still be there tomorrow?
By the Embankment drain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem