poetry is simple: make something out of nothing
to begin with, here is nothing, hiding somewhere
in the o
on your way to kindergarten you carry a pink
umbrella, an antique lampshade, a fairytale turtle
under which you are invisible and I think
you wink to the man in the traffic light to go green
you hurtle. you are not hiding. nothing can be seen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem