The tyrannic moan of the refuse truck;
the granite of a rook`s caw,
the windows suffer under sleet.
The street is lighted yellow
for the survivors, the last ones.
Your breath is soft beside me,
each pause fills the darkness.
Dream I am better than I am,
the night`s follower, the undecided.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dream I am better than I am, the night`s follower, the undecided. Verily, a well expressed poem.......10