She stood on the sidewalk,
to all whom passed oblivious
to their glances, bumps and talk.
That she was heart-broken was obvious.
The little girl was crying.
From some agony, I know not what,
but ‘twas plain that she wished she were dying;
so alone, in so public a spot.
I held out my arms, as I knelt,
and with a spasm of sobs she fell in,
bringing some of the sorrow she felt
in a place racked with crime, filth and sin.
Then she into the tenement fled,
back to whom knows what sorrow and strife,
and I was left shaking my head
at the pain that had entered her life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem