Sirens howl in the street & the cafe,
Trying to pull you either way,
Like carnival barkers
Peddling heart ache & tragedy
The northwest wind whips around the corners,
Cruel & bitter, lashing the faces of us street toughs
Under the orange street lamps
It never grows fully dark here
The sky only gains a certain colour
I draw my coat up tight around my shoulders,
Shrugging, like a crow nestling itself beneath its dark wing
Never have I felt more cold
More alone
More alive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an elegant poem - I'd have given it a 10, but you spelled 'its' with an apostrophe! Your imagery is striking and free of cliche. Wonderful stuff, absolutely.