In my cousin's mansion in California
my uncle and aunt, tourists
saw it separately.
At first, they didn't know what it was -
neither basin nor commode
neither bowl nor bathtub
they circled round it anxiously
Could it be a drinking-water fountain?
Later, when they knew, they tried
it tentatively; the dwarf-
like jet of water sprang ceilingward
and surprised their secret regions.
[From St Cyril Road and other poems]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem