Through the little window i see the moon
While on the pan i bake my wheat bread
Both are round and extremely beautiful
So far so nice and I am wonderfully pleased
But little later the moon goes under cloud
And the bread in no time swells her belly
To find out the reason I scratch my head
In the mean time the bread hisses up and say
Why do I go to praise the spotted moon?
Before I say anything justifying my logical act
The bread violently blasts itself and instantly dies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem