These woodlouse in the glare
Of corrugated fences
Are metallic balls!
Out from a hot alley
Can yet see, in myself
What of it enthralls.
Minor thing, yes; but shared
With what's been long since
Face-stood over thus:
What for an exhibit
In glass case achieves
Immortal status.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem