In three acts
Fight
Sun in fight with clouds
It is wet, it is hot
People’s hands on the cups
Whatever they contain
Is chilled or, mixed with ice.
Six strings
She, descent with age, faith
Says little, is concise
Of women, and the wear, and of time:
“Lucky are their husbands! ”
Then she says, smiling:
“They wear the, six strings! ”
And goes on:
“Two noodles for the top
Two strings in middle
Two laces for the feet! ”
I withhold my comment:
“They pay for, the fashion, not cover.”
Tires
I drive with wild eyes
They race me and my mind
See trucks, vehicles and the cars
Then order to adjust:
“The speed and turning side to side.”
They also calculate:
“Plastic and rubber and metal…”
Then, too sad, I hear a snake
Its venom is a sigh:
“Man will be the mammoth, dinosaur.”
Like baby, with fingers:
“One or two…millenniums! ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem