Garbage collector
This is my second day
Soon will be on my way
I repeat what I heard:
"On one side keep bricks
Other side go the rest."
"Rest" gives me a heart ache!
The wood in many forms and their shapes
Large is size, long, flat, thin and thick.
With them some carpenters
The simple shop owners
Could run life for a year
That is just with one bin!
In same bin
Paint in cans with lids on
All virgins and untouched; many kinds
And bottles with tops on
And clothes, shirts to pants, underwear
They must tell stories
The clothes on site, camp?
They must be, I believe
Belonging to Tourists
Visitors, students; all from Brazil
Coming for something else but ending in abuse; cheap labour
Poverty, corruption that sure have deprived them
Of living normal life, are happy for money.
No building rises tall unless on poor's blood.
But worse are what I see in buildings
Foundations and bases
Roofs and walls to basements and ceilings
Are ignored as are the safety of workers.
All are inhumane…
Where has gone our conscious?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem