Loft in a meadow
Lies a large doe
Soft and lying low
In a field teeming with hunters’ bows
Does it know when it will fall?
Does it know when it will leave its young
Once
And for all
Does it sense something
Deeper than its deepest thoughts
A tiny voice
Saying “Your time is almost up”
(Published in Print in 'DeSSerted Island: Poem Collection' - 2014)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem