I imagine a gypsy curse
being placed upon my head
as I refuse to give
an empty bottle
to a beggar begging for it
nay, demanding it more like!
twenty cents worth.
I felt strangely attached
to that piece of plastic
just then
'I want to keep it'
- I cried out
without really knowing why
a moment later
another man
collecting for bottles as well
looks me in my eyes
and we smile
I bless my bottle
with a little spell of my own:
'health, wealth, and happiness
to you and to your children'
and so I give that bottle,
(still twenty cents worth)
to this other man
he places it in his bags
fit to bursting with
my bottle's like
and into the night
we fade
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem