Our destination, Fiesta De Tumacacori, a small
field with a few booths selling food, wares and
souvenirs.
Being sparsely attended because of an overcast,
cloudy, windy cool day.
Some people slowly walking, looking over whatever
catches their eye.
Bundled in coats, scarves, hats, trying to keep
warm while waiting for the entertainment to start.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem