watching tahitian dancer
i'm awed at hips speed
could be an illusion from
swaying skirt on my face
i believe not i saw her
ankles moves like piston
after a dance money rain
she was so happy picking
some more came falling
we stand; clap our hands
we like to do what she does
we don't have body to match
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem