by Gabriela Mistral1889-1957
A child's tiny feet, Blue, blue with cold, How can they see and not protect you? Oh, my God! Tiny wounded feet, 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, That where you have placed Your bleeding little soles A redolent tuberose grows. Since, however, you walk Through the streets so straight, You are courageous, without fault. Child's tiny feet, Two suffering little gems, How can the people pass, unseeing.