Long after commuters have said goodbye
Flurries of snow fall from the sky
Into the charcoal canyon below
A measure of silence the God bestowed.
Florescent street lamps cast shadows around
Their bluish light barely streaming to the ground
Where cracks in the pavement are barely found
Yet patches of ice shimmer like mirrors.
All of the windows firmly closed
Keep out the sting of the January night
Traces of figures appear in the windows
They quickly depart as the pigeons take flight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem