Many feet crisscrossed
The square
Three pigeons walked by
Heads bobbing to a tune only they could hear
The collage of clothing
Looked like a painting by a once great forgotten painter
Whose life’s goal was to capture the human spirit
Each stone in the cobble square
Had a story to tell
But sat in mute silence
Of many legged beast of man
The buildings old and wise
Stood shoulder to shoulder
And watched the busyness of life
Much the way you might look down at an ant hill
On a lazy summer afternoon
A seagull sailed by on a gust of air
On the first warm day of the year
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem