past aroma of
garlic sticking to the oil
to crunchy peanuts
on that tryst
under the acacia trees
on a line of electric lamp posts
we watch the sea
the salty winds touch our faces
we were pure
we only want some company
we had nothing to do
it was the last day
of the garlic flavored peanuts
and then we parted
we were like the winds of the sea
on a short stay
at the boulevard
cooling off some broken dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem