I Knew a woman who had not meat
nor did she have any veggies or broth.
She found some yummy moss covered rocks
and in a pot of water, she did toss.
She hung on a hook in her fireplace
and stirred her noisy mixture with all her might.
Then sat to feast on her rock soup creation
at her kitchen table, one cold winter night.
As she poured each spoonfull in her bowl
it shattered in many a piece.
So hungry stayed this woman of means
who had only rocks for her winters night feast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem