Uprooted Poem by Kamiel Choi
Uprooted
When I was born, my parents planted a birch tree
in our back garden. I could not see it
from my room at the front of the house.
The room in which I read my Winnetou,
in which I touched a breast
for the first time.
The room I painted ocher,
and decorated with beer coasters.
The birch is gone now, and
I have lost my right to the room.
Some effective details to describe a boy's room, his childhood reading, his first girlfriend. How the tree behind the house grew into something symbolic. The poem is okay, not excellent because the words are not dancing, they are not in a divine order
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 8:00:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A meticulous portrayal of the childhood incidents followed by teenage passions. But why to be so disappointed, Kamiel? Thanks.