Sun is out and strong
Iced snow is now soft
Older days, in decades
The mattress of cotton
Became hard as gravel
My dad had a long bow
Its string from intestine
Twisted and pulled hard
Like string on the guitar
Mom opened mattresses
Then he sat, form, squat
Held the bow in his hand
A sharp edge of a weight
Hit a string making wave
And cotton turned bubble
As is soap on warm water
As if the milk comes direct
From the breast into bowls
This snow
Soft snow
Or season
All in one
Take me there
I am so young
Boy aged four
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem