Pigeons land on statues
as though they do not care
about the figure they've landed on.
They only know that where they are
is better than on the ground.
For the sight they see is grander
as they look around.
Statues with the droppings
also do not care.
They stand in silent memory,
usually in a square.
They do not see the droppings.
They're unaffected by the stare
of people unaware
of anything but the pigeoins
that have landed there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem