callous hand tipping stones
looking for rock shrimps
in shallows of a cold river
tiny clams bigger than thumb
close their mouths when disturb
end up in depths of earthen jar
baby sleeping slung across her back
is so used to, not cry can be heard
walking distance a hut and a farm
big enough to sustain few mouths
sweet potatoes, beans, cabbages,
strawberries, cucumber and squash
deer sometimes wander for drink
and quickly dash to forest depth
same as door to door salesman
bartering his chinese housewares
i'm still here watching from ledge
refreshing heart as well as breathes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem