Without The Sheepskin...On The Milk Sleepy Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

today I am a bird. I am eyeing
your ' smallness'. from above.
the grandfather is standing

at the edge of the forest, propped
with the walking stick, and
walking stick, already in the water.

he is examining you, and the forest
undergrowth, from above, not this way as I.
I can also see well, how wild boars

are digging non-stop because, piglets
are hungry. and as usual the bell
is standing me on legs, and I must,

I must to disconnect the alarm clock...

I ask, without the sheepskin
on the milk, there to be no sheepskin,

because, I won't wear out, and...


I thank...