they're running fast
like that hare
you chase here and there
like the cat
HUNTING for a rat,
moving faster
every tickle of time
the trees run
thought they move fast
the opposite direction
as i sit firm
in my cheavy seat,
what make them stand
when i step down
with our motion up
my father beamed
'they're as they're
while we move on'
that makes him a father
to all of us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem