Khoryol had three pots
Wanted to take them home
Carried them all
Balanced one on head
One in right hand
One in left hand
Friend advised him
Take them one by one or two
‘’Pots are fragile’’ said friend
Khoryol refused, said trust
‘’No one’’ to leave pots with
Khoryol went on way home
On way she stumbled, staggered
Pot on head fell
She threw two in hand to save falling one
She missed to catch falling one
The pot fell down broken
The other two pots broken too
… Take or you lose all like Khoryol pots
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem