let the hand hold
the grains of
corn
let these hands
form the
knife
to stab the water
to feel the
slipping of
the sands
to caress the
cottons from the
summer fields
to hold an egg
of the black bird
to touch
the petals of a flower
that blooms
this month
of June
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem