The streetlight on the corner
in that cornered spot
has moths all around it
even though it's hot.
I see it from my window.
It flickers now and then.
The moths circle further away
but then they're back again.
What will those poor moths do
if that light goes out?
If I see it happen
I'll go outside and shout.
'Hey moths come over here.
I'll turn my porch light on.'
Then I can watch you circle once more
until the night is gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem