Watching a softball game through dirty windows,
looking as if on television, just one inning of
a friend's game.
Waiting for my son, I looked and saw people
running as if they were mannequins.
It was different than just a moment before when
I sat there on the bleachers, staring at people
right in front of me, hitting and running around
the bases.
It's such a friendly game and no one cares whether
they win - at least not much - as long as they are
all a team and having fun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem