The mating season is back
The puppies have grown fangs
And the guards have felt overstretched,
Have hibernated for eleven months
Now a dozen a dime after the bitch
Some white, some black
Some yellowish, some spotted
All at the heel of the bitch
Some grumbling, some barking-
Commotions across the farmers' fields
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Commotions are inevitable part of our existence. Thanks for sharing.