the pony
is for little preza to play
the great ranch in her mind
the large patches of pastures
of her memories
the little white pony
with spots of brown
is for little preza
to hope for
something nice to erase
what sadness lies
on the surface
of the table without linen
on the plate
without food
on the floor without any
carpet
the little ponies of our minds
play for us
the game that are badly
needed
in these times
of utter adversities
come little preza
come
the grass is cool
the skies are blue
the ponies are
playful
ride on one of them
and be happy for once
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem