Water in the jar
To be served like a plate of stew
A brisk euphoria of something to eat
When the night is over
Awaken at dawn by chirping birds
Our brooding is nothing
We enjoy our togetherness
Our brotherhood is peculiar and alike
Thinking of how to live and what to eat
This becomes our daily devotions
Yet we are free from proclivity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem