Please judge
I live in small room
My kitchen, living room and bedroom
Even bath and wash-room
A baby can cross all corners in second
Walls and shelves are all books
I love it, no complain.
I hate to hurt an ant
I see the killing bug as crime
But these days…
A drop, soup or jam
On counter, or floor, on the roof
For them is, meal and food.
Satisfied and happy they grow, multiply
And neighbours’ carelessness
These messy, dirty dudes, give supplies.
Festivals and powwows all around, celebrates,
They beat and hit drums
On my bed, on my corpse they climb.
What if I buy drugs, kill them all?
Will I be murderer, criminal?
Will that be hard crime?
Step in and convince my soft soul
It says: “No”
And wants me to find a better way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like insects in their own environment, though not mine. Yes your room sounds small. I do hope you have many hours in open space. May you seek what makes you happy. Thank You
Thank you Lyn