in the small world of a poem
there lives a
teardrop
and there is only one reader
who sees it
and takes it
and says
'the teardropp is not salty
it is sweet
and now it is inside me'
in the small world of my poem
lies the miracle also of the dew
the pearl of the leaf
that lasts only
one morning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem