A rude stubborn boy
Went to the river to frolick in the sand
On the shore
There is a resting park
For women returning from the farm
Here they haul their wads of firewood
And plunge themselves in the deeps
Away from the afternoon sultry clime
This boy wicked from the craddle
Took his knife
And cut off the twine binding the firewood
Unfortunately, his mother was in the deeps
Whose wad he had scattered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The faults sometimes committed by people makes difficulty to others and sometimes even to the nearest.