I saw the housebreaked wives
plod uphill
their knotted hands
clutched around
threadbare purses.
I heard them cluck like hens
in chicken coops
their boney feet
scratched seeds
on stoney ground.
I caught their labored breaths
closed up tight
in worried frowns
whimpering sounds
from thin-lipped mouths.
I spied such was their lot
dried wrinkles
owned before time
blushed brides
bled and begot.
I ate their bread soups
sobered down
brewed miracles
of nature's gifts
as their smiles spread.
I watched their faces melt
faded blooms
became flowers
as we scooped and downed
their proud offerings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem