I stopped the little ant
And pleaded to hear my psalm
The ant was busy for its prey
And asked me to join in its way
If I must again pray!
With my knees bent
I treaded with the ant
Telling my poesy into its ears;
A crank I was perceived here!
Oh! What a horrible job for a poet.. it is
To make one hear his poesy - as it is!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem