Nudging the contempt,
he wanted to become
homeless again.
I had never seen
such human insanity.
Hate me now―
I was your sin.
You made it easy,
making my nest empty.
There was a colossal waste.
The salt was
becoming scarce. Night and
moon were going to break
the hills.
The cost of life
was falling. Diana― the huntress
will not shoot any arrows.
Artemisia was no more sacred.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The leaves were deeply dissected. And fragrant. Freely given they grew in the spring with names only the scientists knew. They put them in their books to save them for the fall. When they returned the scent was gone. Winter loomed.