Here comes a tortoise walking as slow as a snail
Although people do not think much of him,
His shell is his pride...
As hard as a rock it protects him even the lion with a gun
Knowing how slow he is and how lonely it can be in a living forest his shell keeps him happy
Knowing that losing it may be the end of him
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem