to bring down apples
we shook tattered limbs
or swiped at single fruit
gathered the loot
into our jackets
and by the time
of arrival home
we had eaten much
others were used to make jam
mother being led to believe
that a farmer granted
what the winds had scattered
unaware of the thrill we had
shaking groping and grasping
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem