Sandpiper, Sandpiper
at land's end
on dozens of legs
you chase the collapsing waves
gobbling krills off grills of sand, or
stop- -
to poke your flexible bill
down burrows of bristling worms;
but you flee the rising wave,
nimble go-between, there and-
gone- -
before it wets your heel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem