teaching
me poetry
the overturned
seashell
its legs
scratching
the breeze
the upturned
horn beetle
its hard jointed legs
waving to me
on the floor at morn
the sprightly
little boy
running at noon
to get shadow
chasing him
full moon festivals
the full moon
smiling, twisting
on the sea
the eagles
proudly swiftly
measuring
his territory
his giant wings
span the sky
the newborn
twisting, lipping
lipsing words
in the wooden cradle
flock of burong pipit
bobing up, down
up, down
over the field
a chirp followed
by a flurry of chirps
at first light
the new neighbour's laundry
so many different shapes
and shades
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yes. (another where 3 letters would suffice but they require 20.)