From the tall mounds
We pile of the earth
Over our ageless hoes
You sprout and swell
In season
And shrink and shrivel
Out of season
When roasted
You char into cinder
But when boiled
You swell
And sweet we eat
You r sugarcoat taste
Another season.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
season and out of season, good one.