Fierce as a thirsty nak
In April
Nestled in a dress
The hue of sleepy That Dam
On Chantha Khoumane
Her lissome stride
Awakes dreamers
The colors of the world,
The children of rivers,
Our sandalwood city
Where talaats greet the moon,
Phi dance with dreams
And the future begins to stir
Not with a yawn, but her laugh,
A gaze
That has known stars the way
Others know flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem