it is far from here
as we have to pass the same
big and wide river
curling some mountains
ten times
we shall follow a winding
path
muddy most of the times
as slippery as
imagined
on foot we really have
to
as it is real and old and
memorable
papa and grandpa passed this
way many times
to reach Bandera
a cozy place by the side of
a green hill surrounded by
mango trees
we shall be there at the ripe season
as mangoes fall on our feet
we pick them up, peel it, suck the juice
savor the pulp and taste the fullness
of our lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem