he knew now
why his Creator has put him
at the foot of the lonely hill
no grass for goats
no swamps for ducks
no prairies for horses
no flowers for butterflies
no bees
it is a simple existence
of a cloud upon a hill
of wind just passing by the door
a ripe guava by his
window
the usual sun and moon
and sound sleep at night
he knew now why
because there is so much to be written
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem