harvest moon rising....
a tremble
in the migrant's voice
Second Place,10th Kloštar Ivanić Haiku Contest,2013
Judge’s Comment
The year wears on, maybe he is a migrant farm worker, far from his home country. He is working late, the harvest moon rises, huge and yellow over the horizon. Filled with nostalgia, he thinks of his homeland, his family, his life there, as he talks to fellow migrants he holds back tears, but his voice wavers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem