'Twas your birthday
the sixtyfifth
March twentytwo
retirement too
Morning came
living love aflame
breakfast the game
I asked, with teeth holding flower
What should it be, dear
sunny-side-up, your answer
and I was gripped with fear
cracked the egg
into the pan
and waited
for sun-up ripening
yolk still running
Alas! the white burnt
turned to black
just like me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem