to and fro, it moves
in not so hasty way,
perceiving the touch of
the gentle wind,
narrowly observing
the passing vehicles
viewed
from the windowpane.
the pigmented doves
munching on the roof
of a dilapidated hut.
a skinny old woman
washing some clothes;
maybe she’s tired – but
have to endure
the hardships in life.
sway, sway gradually and
let the fancy
be freed, while
conceiving the past and
the state to come. then,
she closed her eyes
and forbid not her spirit
to wander forever.
(12/03/2010, Manila)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem