Shaded by ancient trees
the avenue wakes
as shopkeepers pull down
their multi-striped blinds.
Early coffee drinkers
dip silver spoons
into tiny cups
and stir life with a tinkle.
The new sun sends signals
to todays dusty streets;
that there will be no let up
in its skin-warming glory.
I order another coffee,
and drink and drown
in the atmosphere
of this Summer city.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What's a 'singnal'? It's amazing how much banality can be packed into a few lines. -LP