Winter weather but a faint memory
Dusk allows the shadows to slowly grow
My skin is caked with dried sweat
From the heat of afternoon
Somewhere among the thirsty blades of grass
A couple crickets are chirping with zeal
Barely audible amid
The drone of distant traffic
So deep into suburbia am I
That they are the only poets I hear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem