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When I was going home
When I was going home
the darkness was around,
nobody on the street, indeed.
I saw an old woman,
she was a dandelion like, .
she rummaged in the refuse bins
which were all alike.
She was the one who's got her pension
'in the proportion with her job'.
I wouldn't like here to mention
that she was just robbed.
She bought the medicines
had not enough for food,
she bought the food
had not enough for medicines.
...And close to the refuse bins
there was a stall
and boxes with the fruit were near by.
'It looks you're pushed of money'-
she heard the voice.
'take some from here,
it's much better choice.'
She smiled sadly and
I've heard her answer:
'Can't take anothers'.
And with those words
she slowly moved......
to another refuse bin.
I saw that scene.
I began to cry
and I know why.
I was delighted with her greatness,
I was ashamed of my carefree life;
and if I were her I wouldn't decline.
poem
by
Larisa Rzhepishevska
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