When you were young and thin,
The village whispered silently,
Waiting for you to wither away,
But you defied all and fattened.
You shared skirts with the third last,
Shivered in the wind like dead leaves,
Spoke a slender tone of a grown toddler,
The village waited to see your eyes fall.
We named you thinly chicken feet,
Avoided you like plagues ought to be avoided,
Tickled you small nose with chicken feathers,
And, laughed till we broke our larynxes.
Now, your charms have a village into begging frenzy,
Demand for blossoms has hit the peaks of our grass roofs,
Every many dreams of a beautiful witch with emerald eyes,
A thin girl finally grew into a hurricane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem. i love the rhythm and the flow of the poem