a group of ferns hang
on the side of the cemented wall
of an old building
long deserted by its
inhabitants
too dusty to ask for drops of water
too wilted
too hopeless
when the wind passes by on a rumor
of rain
the ferns snob it
they have learned to accept
the reasons behind their fate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem