They climbed out
of the truck.
We lined them up
checking each id.
I came to a thin girl.
She handed me her id.
I looked at her birthdate,
it was 7-09-1947.
This is my birthdate
I told her.
She smiled at me
and lowered her head.
They climbed back in the truck
and the driver drove off.
I'm thinking,
It is a small world.
That girl and I
were born on the same day
and years later
we meet in Vietnam,
where she needs
my permission
to move about
in her own country.
It is a small world.
A small world, indeed.
(8-17-1968)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful world in poem of thinking really.