this is the song of
the pillow and the blanket
when you splash them
in the air and then
you fold the blanket
and put it on top
of each other and you
set them gently aside
this is the song of the
yellow green venetian blinds
when you pull the strings up
and you let in the light
this is the song of the doors
and the windows when you
unlock the knobs and open
them to let all the sounds of the
day enter your house
this is the whistle that comes
out from your throat when
you shape your lips like
a pout where good thoughts
are let in and then the notes
begin to fly like some birds
on a clear early morning sky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem