I am just lying on a log.
A butterfly and a bee land.
Beneath each of my eyes they clog
A little space. I understand.
Some humans come by in a boat,
And watch the three of us a while.
The bugs do drink, the humans note,
From the eyes of this crocodile.
The humans are without a clue
That for their eggs, bugs do need salt.
The nectar from flowers won't do.
So bugs come to me by default.
It's not as strange as it appears,
Some bugs drinking crocodile tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem