I'm walking down the alleyways,
a penny less than low.
Raindrops are drowning on the street,
some butterflies for show.
The devil's standing on one side,
the sinners' bullet hole.
A preacher on the kerbside
is selling me my soul.
I split my fate with a saw,
red Mustang's smoking tires.
Reflections on a beer pot
my passions and desires.
Cathedral bells and memories,
believers set in stone.
The rainbow's frown with a twist
reminds me I'm all alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice try but not quite Waits. That would probably take a Bukowski...