rain
drizzling in plain
sheets over the
asphalt where
so many sophisticated
cars rattle and run
almost amok
the sounds are
muffled under the
drops of so much
water running
across the windowpanes
and so i forget
how, when and where
i’ve seen your voice
the river of cars
all numbered, flows
on and about
this autumn, too
far into the past
for us to remember
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very lovely poem. Please read mine: - Memory is a Cheating Thing - Adeline