Sad eyes wink in the dark,
Frozen hair masking his face
The lines of grey,
Around his chin to the temples,
Telling stories of his past,
Silently folding on a moldy cardboard
With a running nose
bleeding on the street
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we see them everywhere not a thing can be done we spend more on war
indeed we do and silently we judge to make it worse