Beneath bird nest hair,
the remnants of a face.
The tangled mass of locks
obscure his looks.
Filthy coat and flapping shoes
show the last stages of wear
and the first of disintegration.
His tobacco fingers search
the bin outside a franchised bakers.
On the outer layer of stinking jumpers
he sports a bright yellow,
'smiley face' badge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem