Who put the pot of pepper soup on fire for too long?
Who did that, where are they?
Why did they leave the pot of pepper soup
On fire, burning after it has cooked?
The pot is hot,
The firewood is red with heat,
Smoke is scudding like clouds in the sky,
And nobody will put the pot of pepper soup down.
The steam is rising in the soup,
The soup drying up inside the pot,
And the person cooking the pot of pepper soup
Is not to be found around.
And nobody else is bearing
Any responsibility;
I am crying for the pot is black with soot,
And the smell of burnt pepper soup
Is disturbing my helpless nose.
The aroma was delicious to the senses,
Now being burnt the pepper soup
Is gone, nobody can eat it,
Even the one cooking it
Is not to be found around,
To see that it had gone bad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poem with a different type of thought, well- composed,