If it is 'something' they wish to get,
From you...
Some will be direct.
And others will leave you suspecting it.
Since from them you never receive a call,
Or a visit.
So right away from them,
You begin to feel suspicious.
Until the bushes have been beaten enough...
And the voice within you no longer sits.
You hear it blurt out, 'What is it that you want?
What is it? What is it? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem