first time for me
to see a squirrel
i tore part of my
earl of sandwich and
gave it
it picked it up with its
hands and began to nibble
here the sun is awake
the wind is too cold for my
chest
we sat on a steel chair
saving words
savoring what was there
on the last day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem