Speak to me of padaek
And some poor ba ferments, pungent, chunky and spicy.
Alas, so unlikely to catch on like sriracha or sushi,
At least in this century.
I look at your lips, appreciatively pondering
All that has passed beyond those lovely gates for your jai ngam lai,
Where even the last bit of fish is not forgotten or left behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem