we are into the labyrinthine
paths of the temple in Cambodia
two years ago, and now as i lay
in bed thinking about it the image
of a tall man comes into play,
he invited us to a secret place
where a beehive is situated and
there is really nothing unusual
about it since we have lots of
this kind in the philippines, and
then for heeding his invitation
as tour guide to a beehive he then
asks for money as his fee which to
our mind is not that hard to give
knowing very well that he needs it
for his daily survival and then
we left the place rushing to see
the old trees eating the Buddhist
temple for years and years still
hungrier than ever....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem