For want of something better,
I call you chunky.
A chunk here, a chunk there
Hung carelessly on 4 spindly legs.
You are quite good at staring
and at munching grass
alone by yourself
in this empty field.
Profound
Like the rest of us,
you just one day found yourself here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem