On Squirrels

translated by PLS

trees keep a maternal instinct for climbing. Though painful

a squirrel forgets how to fly under shelter, and

the squirrel ages, barns oxidize and burn underground

or he runs towards the new attic at a gallop, ruthlessly shutting 

the windows facing you. Only to remember collecting fruits

giving and being not afraid of betrayals. Love of sublime purity

no more than the soft wings pines left for squirrels

collusion to innocence and ungrateful love enshroud withered twigs

the sound of thundering, propagation and invasion of mosquitos

keys unlock slow cracks of the earth during dry season

fluffy tails shine with gold. You like to watch his cute pondering face

shining under the sunset. Slash the sky open

endorse him with giant tulips. Life is danger-less

you hold him up to the lips of gods, private sunset glow

ribbons the rounded wrist with auspicious vermillion silk

one day, the roots reach his former residence

scratches on the skin burning like a birth mark

reminding me of his furtive lightening, arrogant steals

and oval recursive orbit. Of departing

cold breeze and lava staring at each other night after night

of even the deepest love won’t keep one, however loyal

of under the canopy, sandglass of time filters out patience

salt particles dancing in the air. Of roaring wind

cerulean ravine, a squirrel unfolding its wings

the days of growing furtively on the tips of toes are long gone