Tells me the story, blond hair shining in the sun
Fighting with my sister, scooping sand into my lap
Our little club was meeting, “oh, what shall we make? ”
A pregnant woman in the sand or a canyon split by quake?
So with my imagination, instructions given to each,
We began with earth in hands to make our masterpiece.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem