Having faced the kind of tragedy
you think will only strike elsewhere,
I find most problems petty now.
Our basic needs, to eat and drink and sleep,
to care and to be cared for,
seem enough to bring us happiness,
while countless other goods or services
for which we feel obliged to pay,
seem trivial pursuits,
for people not allowed
to simply live
and love each day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem