regret, it is with deep regret that i tell you
that i regret sitting on this
computer chair
and facing the screen
and i am here writing for you
as you talk and talk
and talk and talk
like a quacking duck
oh Adam did not lay eggs,
or have the temerity to hatch them and so the chickens came first
how nice of you
regret that is all i feel now
i could have gone
out and take my walk
i could have read
the most wonderful poetry
of the trail
the line of green mahogany trees
blooming with their summer leaves
the sun finally coming out
with an array of clouds
and white herons
gliding and landing
on ricefields
and grasses creeping
and covering
the mud and the stones
indeed, it would have
been lovelier that way
and i should have
been happier
than simply sitting
and writing
and feeling
what poetry should
not be
this early morning
with you
what a hell!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem