When the dun dry leaves
Begin to shed the trees
And then beneath
The snakes intensely romance
And those
Henceforth hidden
Naughty little champs
Waiting
In line eagerly
Peep through....
Scratch their foreheads,
Bite the nails,
Cross their fingers,
And when their number
Turns
They overly rejoice
And pop-up
To slowly spread
Their wings....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is good writing, and I love the title very much.