Climb that wall,
you little tendril
of ivy.
The old red bricks
have cracks from
the rain.
Their time worn faces
make excellent
foot holds,
I know you have the
patience, and you
won't go insane.
Rusty brown gutters
appear whiter than
ever,
and wide open windows
are saying 'Come in.'
Peonies down below
are urging you
onward.
I once tried to kill
you, but still you
remain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem