The stillnaess of a calm lake,
embraced by dry earth;
the touch made
to make it messed,
yet so,
it is enough
to make it laugh.
The little waves,
perfectly made,
similar to a laugh
that even a soft tickle is enough
to mess it up.
Yet so,
it is just a calm loch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem