On a bench in Jerusalem,
a woman with a hijab.
Beside her, a man,
tickling her through the black cloak.
Laughing first, then convulsions:
her body clenches,
knees to chest,
like a fetus in the womb.
And I, observing this,
become also,
like a fetus in the womb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem