It's a tradition, an old superstition
the night is hot
we'll go and do it
as soon as everyone is asleep
we sneak out of the house
leaving our husbands
as to take a pee
It is not far to the rock
with the flat stripe of white
In the light of the moon
we pee indeed
with laughter
while undressing for the picture
because we want to have proof
We slide our butt warm
over the pale stripe in the middle
of the Chilchliflue. Landed
in the grass, we feel
with each other
for the beginning
of a baby in our belly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem