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