She in storm
In storm and in cold
she is leaf and is bold
cause she, firm still
absorbs all and devotes
with glove and without
to fix him, shirt, scarf.
Unlike her another
shivers, comes in skirt
it is short and is tight
sits by me, I can see
all the way to her thigh
plenty of goosebumps.
"Isn't cold? " I question,
"I froze, " she replies.
"Therefore why? "
hits the wall.
If these are of mankind
the storm is the tongue
like lizards' and frogs'
extends its wing of death
large condor in skies…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem