at first, the woman with a manly voice spoke.
nothing memorable.
life surpassed us long ago, chlorine vassals
of the water where stupidity washes its calico,
and yet, here I vibrated, recited my sutras.
a few came up to spit on me. I was thirsty,
therefore I drank.
I love what is granted to me from the heart,
St. Francis of the dupes, of the crows,
who makes me feel important.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem