It was sad to see the fun
in the photo from before the move,
before the water swooshed
around what wouldn't let it through,
and whooshed through what would;
before it pooled where it could
and was pored over
and poked and stirred
till it was dun;
and overflowed and dried.
It was sad to see the fun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sad but where do we go from here.