At first he thought they were gnats,
miniscule specks orbiting around each other,
like neutrons and protons,
you can’t see them but you know
they’re there because they leave signs.
But when he really looked,
he saw that they were tiny butterflies,
brilliantly tinted, with intricate patterns
on their wings, like fine crewel
and that they had something to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem