We took the mouse alive from the trap
And washed his cheek and set him under
Some leaves with a chicken bone by the
Neighbor's gate. In the morning, we found him
Crushed flat by some heavy object. When small
Creatures die, we are not to feel for
Them. They flow into the river and the
Crazy ones find a way to live again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem