Down the valley the stream whispers
On the bed's pebbles
The banks' leaves waving at the silent passerby
And the frail surfs breaking upon obstacles
Staining the leaves with what
Our throat itched for
Down and beside a rock
A resplendent pool rested
That quenched the thirst of ages
The fish is sacred and old- the incarnates
Of our ancestors
We ate them with the teeth
In our eyes!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem