(Dwelling On It)
I live between birth and death
between the stork and the executioner
my address very kindly refers
to the bird that is the bringer of babies
but my seven windows look out on extinction
Still I fill the window sills with boxes
with fragrant herbs that grow and bloom
I sprinkle their savoury leaves on dishes
while singing of living between doom and womb
my celebratory residing reprise
being verses rhymes and lines
like these
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem