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She, a fetus chick in eggshell
-gathers her limited metaphors
-and similes from her small world
-makes a large snowball, poetic
-and throws it at me
I am heat of midday sun in summer
-so melt it
-it goes and evaporates, disappears
-in the vast sky and confused
Then the fog lingers there
-in a vast sphere
-of no yes
-and no, no!
-misty dust…
-unclear
The wise gets the point
-summer days are few
-their life short and
-therefore
-they must do
-what they must
-won't be fooled
In fact though
-snowball is great for winter…winter games…
-shall come in summer...no...Never...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem