we go to the mountain
without trails now
beneath the trees
there are no days and nights
we have seen the orchids
and the ferns
we heard the music from the
birds
and the excitement from all
those rare things
the fairies live there
and the unknown spirits
the old man walks without
a stick
the little boy talks like
a man
we climb uphill and we slide
down the bush
mud and leech we hush and hush
like a slush
the same rule is las vegas
is kept
what we did there stays there
nothing to spill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem