Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | August 17, 2008


by Gabriela Mistral (1889 – 1957).


Tiny Feet


A child’s tiny feet,

Blue, blue with cold,

How can they see and not protect you?

Oh, my God!


Tiny wounded feet,                                                  5

Bruised all over by pebbles,

Abused by snow and soil!


Man, being blind, ignores

that where you step, you leave

A blossom of bright light,                                     10

that where you have placed

your bleeding little soles

a redolent tuberose grows.


Since, however, you walk

through the streets so straight,                         15

you are courageous, without fault.


Child’s tiny feet,

Two suffering little gems,

How can the people pass, unseeing?



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