the wings of a dead dragonfly
are carried by an army of ants
going towards their barracks.
you do nothear them singing.
or shouting, or mumbling the numbers
of their steps, you will only hear
their silence, while at the height
of their unity, gathering and hiding
what food there is, for the queen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Army of ants are carrying wings of a dad dragonfly. An amazing observation is done really. This poem is brilliantly penned.