Some leer, a few jeer
the rest cheer at Julie,
Circus girl, flexing her
sinewy frame; acrobatics
done, she awaits her turn
- all for a scrap of coins
to feed kin at home.
In between she gazed
blankly at days past
- the palm fringed village
where she grew with the birds.
From town to town
she flew with her troupe,
Like Bedouins of yore,
whispering the fall of years
with long repressed tears;
The day would come, she knew
when the troupe would go on,
age leave her behind.
She wished for the days
when she grew with the birds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem