The afternoon was hot and humid
the day we first set eyes on each other.
He bare-chested bent over
swinging his traditional sickle to tame
the over grown jungle like garden.
I watched in awe as his muscles rippled.
I offered the use of modern day tools
knowing I would rather watch him
toiling in so ancient a way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem