With great dexterity and interminable effort
a pigeon harvests slowly accumulating drops
issuing from a leaky faucet.
As though I were some four legged feline
potentially to pounce,
the pigeon’s ever vigilant maneouvres and flutters
interrupts its quenching, again and again
in this desert-like oasis, Lima.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem