Palm trees, alone, forgotten on street corners,
wearing still, their overcoats of winter.
Standing in one hundred degree weather, forlorn,
desolate, waiting hopefully for someone to notice
their predicament.
Then cutting away the brown overcoat so they can
bask in the sunlight wearing only their swimsuits.
Feeling much cooler at last, they can then be happy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem