When a child
While passing through the hills
Stopped I near the foothills
On marking porcupines,
Looking from the wholes,
With the spikes over the body
Which stood it outside
Fearing some external danger
But the next time when I visited
Found I not the porcupines
Nor the hills
Bereft of all that I saw it then.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem