Your slanting smile
like a pendant-moon
ready to collapse
on pomegranates.
*
Monstrous, bug-eyed,
my pug will jump;
whenever, I touch
his snub-nose.
+
Death was sparring
after a brief encounter.
What was the need
for living more?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
quality we want and not quantity.