Hedgehog, the mouse-eared prickle-back breaks cover
His ploughshare nose sheers through the silky grass
His hog-snout scoops up nosegays of the wood
Mould, moistness, mushrooms, drops of moon-made dew.
Prod him. He'll turn to a mouse
Retreat inside his house, a ball of bristles
A small brown ball of fear. A fist of thistles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem