I learned how to sweep my kitchen
As a mother cleans her new born
I learned how to wipe the cups with care
And to place them in the right order
I learned how to hold the giggling glasses
With no shiver in my tiny hands.
I learned how to move my sharp knife
To carve cute figures out of vegetables
I learned how to use salt and spices
To yield yummy dishes with flavour.
I learned how to squeeze the untamed flour
To form small spheres, and to roll them down
I learned how to make these circles edible
On a heated magic pan with my spatula-wand.
I learned how to boil milk and water
Half a cup each, with tea leaves and sugar
To make my strong, hot tea
Which I love to have before sunset
I know I learned very little
And a long way ahead to explore.
Yet, I learned how to cook with love
And to feel the soul of my kitchen
Very nicely expressed. you are quite creative expressing very simple things in a poetic way. Just a thought; if i may say so; avoiding repetition of I learned could make your writing very affective and sound still better.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very creative composition. Your have immortalised the mundane Kitchen with your beautiful verse. Congratulations.