The cock crowed once
And twice I hung up
Below a tree
My hands not
On any bough
My legs
Not on the ground
My heart thumped
Like the muscle
Of a slaughtered cow.
I am waiting
For a piece of good news
Either now to come
Or later to vanish
And I am waiting
Like a hen
For its knees
To bear in front
Of its legs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem