We are the beautifully ugly toads,
Never seen a concreted road,
Hiding behind the convenient baskets,
Always croak to the unheard noise,
Scared of getting battered and bullied,
Toasted and grilled after marinated,
Dried and pounded with sticky words,
All our life we live as the toads,
Hiding behind someone’s back,
Away from the troubles and tortures,
During the time of confrontation,
We leap to another heavenly place,
Leaving our former shelter as a ruse,
We are squeaky clean and start to croak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dave, you are absolutely right. we are pushed to that level, otherwise we would not survive in this harsh world..