My blue bike thunders
below me
and cars and trucks
flashes by.
It’s a hot day with an open blue sky
and nowhere there’s a cloud
to be seen
and the warm wind brushes my hair.
The smell of the grass, petrol,
exhaust fumes and tar
rises around me,
but I am free
and the bike catches some speed
and the road stretches out
in front of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem