I saw the little old man
With long white hair and yellow eyes
Whisking on windy nights
Through street lights and puddles.
I told him how I spend twelve hours a day,
Chasing, racing, and bracing,
And he gave me a wink and a yawn.
I asked him how I could stay awhile
On his sweet, secret, gentle side,
But he vanished without a clue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem