All at least in their 80s in 2020
are living people born in the 30s.
In 2040,81 will be a surviving 59er.
87 then will be a surviving me,
born in 1-9-5-3,
3 days post the coronation of Betty best-dressed,
7 after men crowned Everest.
Less than ten years after that
we had 2 pet chooks -
the unusual ones amongst a lot of others -
black Polly the rooster and speckled Nikka the hen.
Because we killed chooks,
dad sold the 2 pets in their prime.
We never had unusual-looking chooks again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem