i pick kernels that you throw
to chickens as tall as me
put it in my mouth, spit out
commanding voice i hear
i ran away, hands are swift
pressing my cheeks, i laugh
i pet those chickens; many
my fingers run out in counting
i love to feed them on my palm
some pick on my feet, it hurts
i look up and point at culprit
you smile 'go get 'em kid'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem