He is big now
there are ten of him
where before
there was none
a speck unborn
a seed swimming
somewhere in
some guarded envelope
waiting to unfold
and yet there is more
water here by this
unguarded shore
as I look,
there are ten of him
looking out to sea
never in to see
always out, the ten
looking out,
and I wonder, tomorrow
who will he be?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem