Morning trickles in the streets
Weave thoughts of green logic,
So many prayers from a girl
Left alone and bare in songs rare
Endlessly flow for good of others.
Her uncovered breast tremble
A piece of cloth unfriendly to wear,
People with greedy eye balls
Grossly err to look voluptuously,
Bloodless in their hearts for a coin
As dirty in words as her dress,
People buzz in bitter questioning
Always greatly wise in discussion
On poverty in our nation.
She came rolling in the wind
Like a bird for fruits in hunger,
My mind like an old mirror fluxed
“Hey, this is a coin for you”
The girl moved away like a shadow
Limping a little to force sympathy,
Her voice restlessly quivered the air
Caring not the smirks and scolding
Rummages around people
Unable to think, unable to act
A faint tragic song frosts my feet..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem