first summer
tokyo summer
the city rests
like an oven
where the wind
stops to blow
and all you
want to do
is stay as quiet
and close your eyes
to wait for the sun to set
and the breeze
to work its magic again
the sun bites into the skin
and the flame could be so intense
i worry whether my mind would
work its magic again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem