I saw the paw-paw breasts
Of green and yellow fruits
My throat itched
And I looked up to the tall tree
Weary my mother will
Not want to climb.
I trotted away to the yard
Looking up and admiring the fruits
My hand already at the ripe one
My heart thumping and in my hands
I hugged the tree
Lifting my feet from the ground
I touched the riped one
Looking for its stalk
A bee flew passed
And when I raised my head
It stung me on my right eyebrow
I slid down like a pebble thrown up
And obeying gravity
Down down I squated
Soothing my swollen eye
And remembering what
My mother had said.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem