Oh! The sad fading memory re-kindles.
That desperate fragile man was crying on a rainy day
And he was soaked in a cobbled narrow street.
I offered him a small colored note
But he refused.
And I gave him a big note that too he refused calmly.
Then only I realized that he was starving.
Unfortunately all the shops were closed and it seemed to be a public holiday in a memorial of a bygone puppet President.
[ *Sandman- The genie of folklore who makes children sleepy; in allusion to the rubbing of their eyes as if there were sand in them.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
May your fragile man find solace somewhere. Some are destined for the dustbins of history while the spirits of those who are truly great burn on like an eternal flame. Kind regards, Sandra