My wife's new pink slippers
have gay pompons.
There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
All night they lie together
under her bed's edge.
Shivering I catch sight of them
and smile, in the morning.
Later I watch them
descending the stair,
hurrying through the doors
and round the table,
moving stiffly
with a shake of their gay pompons!
And I talk to them
in my secret mind
out of pure happiness.
And I talk to them in my secret mind out of pure happiness. Trivial life can inspire the author of true, unbridled part of thought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gave me chills. and i dont know why