round the corner, you are lonelier
although people are walking across
pavements there and back
behind a corner of a street, in the small cafe weak
men are drowning their great worries and strong the
women is aring filtering chilled drinks of troughs
the of fares
girls in dresses with a plunging neckline
are keeping butterfly nets, they are cursing,
converting minutes into hours, and they are
walking in the full sun.
behind a corner of a street you are lonelier
because you aren't smoking you aren't drinking you
don't have the straw and you are as ever... foreign
... in this place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If you are 'other' you aren't smoking, you aren't drinking - it you will remain strange. In it how much truth is contained, people who know it from personal observation know. The excellent topic and the poem. It is worthwhile reading.