Cattails, willow brush and slew grass,
Stand as sentries to those who pass.
A silent obstacle, without dimension.
"Marshland", what is my intention?
Gun loaded and trusting to my luck,
I went forward looking for a duck
What to do if a duck should fly?
Helpless me, the brush is in my eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem