my eyes sweeping horizon
rain pouring on some section
there's dark billowing smoke
from upper part of mountain
I imagine they're cooking
maybe goat or hunted deer
here comes airplane too high
airport is too far from here
moon is on my right corner
it's been there since November
with that pock-mock facing me
if there's living there; she
she could be looking here too
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem