Chattering like a squirrel in a forest, listening to it's
rhythms as it scurries through branches of trees and across
the ground.
Leaving footprints here and there, hoping to be recognized
before the day is done, ending on paths of tomorrow without
being portrayed as anything.
Reminders of a little squirrel, sitting in the forest at
night when everyone else is fast asleep and no one knows
what it is doing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem