In knee water I am waiting covertly like a crane
To flash up the carp but nothing comes up
Valuable time is lost, no quality has been seen
Like a swarm of bees the flints of thoughts appear
I catch them indiscriminately like crabs in my writing
On the dry and sandy shore of my rippled mind
I thought one day on the paper this herd of wild bison
Would turn to a pack of lions, but I see these to turn
Into a battalion of a brainless sheep to eat grass
A quantity of piled up raw meat, but no quality
So it is quality versus quantity, at a time never comes both
In a match when one is on the field, the other goes to hide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely articulated thoughts based on one's own experience. Following lines make it quite clear: So it is quality versus quantity, at a time never comes both In a match when one is on the field, the other goes to hide.