Instead of sitting under 
the Tree of Life, 
contemplating its meaning, 
we should get up 
and shake its trunk, 
or climb it to lounge 
among its branches, 
pluck its fruits and 
savor their juices, 
wipe them purple sweet 
off our chins, 
then lick our hands clean 
for good measure.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    