I walk around her.
She has naught presumed.
The people's court.
A poor mother.
No father.
No one can see chains.
Yes! No!
Your questions they are?
The point rises and falls.
With a wet thick plop, one
passes, to the left,
one can to the right.
Being strong
she is the weakest link.
Amongst them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem