Engravings in the wood
chipped bark that is carved off well
by a knife of small shape and size
letters are written on tree by a young child
symbolizing his first love.
In the clearly mopped hallways
a small classroom after hours
the grinding sound of a small pocket knife
administers the vengeance of detention
on a small, poor, unsuspecting desk.
With the forests in their deepest green
the shades of the leaves make the park simply sparkle
while on a small bench in the corner of this park
a small key engraves letters into the wooden surface
because my date is late, and I am bored.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem