It’s raining grey
over a strangely
mixed landscape
of cranes and lorry parks
and towering islands
of apartment blocks;
with a small grey muddy river
forced into conformity
by straight concrete walls;
softened by the proliferation
of grass;
and trees;
that refuse to be ordered
to stay in line.
A grey haze softens the outline
of an unknown horizon,
with just a handful of people in sight,
((((a tiny fragment))))
of the twenty million
I am told live in this great city;
I feel uneasy, the sky is empty
……………………of movement:
Grey thoughts, grey days;
but just one bird,
black or white or coloured,
or even grey;
just one bird
would cast
this mist away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
enigmatically beautiful