ANTS Comments

Rest rest you laborious ones

All day
under the table
you have carried
the crumbs of my meal
on the way to your hiding place

Why such a hurry?

I would say to you:
harvest now
there will be days of dearth

But the poem depends on chance
— it will take time —
and other crumbs will fall to the floor
from the torn sheet of paper

Don't hurry then workers
take a nice break

Because I
like another
— solitary— ant
will go on working
until no more verses
fall from my table
...
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