all the frogs
have always wanted
the white heron
to lead them
and for all these
rainy seasons they chant
and sing for
their chosen leader
after six years or so
the singing lessens
both in prosody and
timbre
there will be a lesser number of
them now
and they wonder where the
others are
for the rain have been
long and strong and the floods
come and
the great heron and all the other
herons
have all become fat, lazy
and too greedy
and all the good frogs still
do nothing....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem