brown little girl
idle in one of the nooks of the
ruins of Ankor Wat
on the poetic side
i thought she is hungry for love
and begs for
affection
having lost her mother to the war
her father buried on those killing fields of
Pol Pot
time has not healed her wounds i suppose
and she must be in need
of a home
her eyes are sunken niches
in those shallow graves of
Siem Reap
nevertheless i must be awakened
that for now all she needs
are nothing but
concrete coins
and the moment she receives them
she runs back to her fold
and dances with all joy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem