Little green apples
where you were hiding in
blossoms on my tree
Hummingbird hovered,
bees kissed the white blossoms,
promised little green apples.
Little green apples
who would taste your tartness first
blue jays, swallows, me?
Last season's apples,
wrinkled skin scattered under tree-
forgotten old men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Scattered under! Nice work.