homecoming
I was back in my village
had a plastic bag in my hand
looking for a bin to throw the bag away
in the house I once lived
An officious-looking young adult
I knew when he was a boy
told me I couldn't leave the bag there
I walked past a group of women
they saw me and whispered
since no one called my name, I walked on
at the old part of the village
I saw a café that looked like a living room
I asked for a glass of wine
A pleasant-looking old lady brought
a bottle, she called young wine
bottled a few days ago
The wine was wonderful
Sit here as long as you want
I have to leave
It's a good thing I still had the plastic bag
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem