The mountains round that town are sheer
Massifs of stone. The town
Lies glinting like a coin below.
The river carves a frown.
I grew up there, so it was all.
It was the world to me.
That it and I were less than small
I'd learn eventually.
To have grown up in a small town
Is such a micro-fate,
A shrunken destiny, at best,
A morsel of time's bait.
If you are from a micro-town,
Bravo to you from me.
Our origins have blessed us with
Well known obscurity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem