By the roadside
See I the Covid hospital
Solitary and deserted
Sometimes do come the ambulances
And go away,
I do not
Who comes in,
Who goes out
In all plastic,
Coming as patients,
Moving out as dead bodies.
But crossing it
Sometimes do think I,
Is it that one day I too may be a patient
To be lifted to be brought here,
God forbid,
But who has seen the future,
What lies it waiting for whom,
Who can but say it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem