is fluffy slate
and smokey grey-
circling in water- pestering, peeping.
Her mother, jet black with milk white arrowhead beak,
dives deep under water, pulls up bottom dwelling weeds,
in a long trail of slimy
moss across oily water,
in front of chick's myopic stare.
‘There and there, ' she points with her bill.
And the chick splashes and gags weeds,
as if she had six siblings.
And her mother looks on with contended care.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem