It is said that there is a ghost
In the town. He wears a long
Coat and hides his face with
A muffler- made of wool. In
The summer too. They say it
As a tale to a child that he hides
His face for being ashamed.
That no one is scared of him.
Children make a joke of him
And some even offer him ice
Cream when he happens to
Pass by their school gates and
They draw their eye-brows up
When he finishes it in a wink.
Even in the chilly winter when
Snow gathers on his mufflers.
Housewives smile at him in
Expectation that under the
Muffler a handsome face may
Be hiding. And they run to the
Doors leaving their daily chores.
When he walks the street in the
Pale darkness of the evening.
Dogs have ceased to bark at him.
For he throws stones at them
With such speed that many have
Died with holes in their bodies.
It is better stop whining and
Hide under the stairs, in darkness.
Once in a fit of rage he sits on
The wall around the well and
Shouts out loud at the sleeping
Men of the houses. All are afraid
Of a simple soul expecting a
Dagger tucked in his waist. Time
Has changed. Ghosts have more
Simple hearts than suspicious mortals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem