It is almost silent,
Save for the occasional car,
Which bursts through suburban planes.
The lamps cast an alien light
Like flares from a technological insect,
Living in over populated bliss, amongst the concrete hives.
A lone straggler stumbles on the pavement
Cursing and muttering in alcoholic ignorance
And the hum of unseen traffic, drones on and on in the distance.
There's a gentle pop,
As the lights next door are put to rest.
And the glare from over-sized windows look like giant unblinking eyes,
Staring blankly onto an alien world through mesh and cloth sunglasses.
There is no breeze.
Not even a murmur to stir the dust,
Or to stroke the garden gate.
A cat cries,
Startlingly real in a midnight state of mind.
Save for the distractions,
It is almost,
Silent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice, keep them coming!