the warm morning,
and suddenly, surprising.
coldly is becoming.
came, with the mower.
it is new, has good blades.
is cutting one after the other
these most beautiful flowers
a weed is leaving
he could start with the lawn
but he was still wet
he has a wild look in his eyes
this way was upset with one's role
the grimace for him fell
but he overlooked.
the mower is mowing evenly.
I thank for it
because alone I am not able
I will pay from above
and right after the payment
it will be just
he wanted also to sing.
but I have the absolute pitch.
I am getting, to know every
false note, and I can hear...
I give you five into the fist...
and good bye, dear not friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poem written with imagination. Very interesting. :))