an old woman with a straw hat
and rotten clothes
deep eyes
bony cheeks
barefooted and cracking lips
and stinking odor
like a dead fish thrown
on the market canal
this morning as i meet her
is asking me
who is the owner of the sky
and the earth
and the sea and the mountains
and the grass
and the trees and the birds
and goats and pigs and
root crops
she is asking me where he lives
and if he is still alive
she has many questions for the owner
of all these
for until now
she remains to own nothing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem