The fingers which bath the children always spin the Heaven's keys!
...Tying the flowers and bathing the children are one and the same!
The soft body of the children gradually softens the fingers
...which were accustomed to violence!
Your fingers become the broken playing dolls to the refusing children
...while the first tickling sensation of titillation falls on them!
The children who take bath in the river themselves
...shall never beg any other's fingers!
The water which embraces them flows bathing the fingers
...of a childless barren woman who is washing her clothes at a distance!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem