walking at fish market
fishes lay still on ice
their eyes looking at me
i can tell who's been there long
you can't squeeze them for freshness
point which one would be your dish
but i can't resist to touch
so i keep pressing my palm
and use my lips to point which one
i have it clean and cut to fry
she wrap it with paper and tag
i squeeze it before i put in my bag
she saw me, i lipsync 'did i? '
she raise her hand with smile
she said 'it's fresh like mine'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Manonton you nailed it keep it up