Dusty country roads,
hitch-hikers returning from jail
for growing the wrong crops;
strikingly contrast
a life in balance,
or a world in peace.
At the crossroads,
the road curves
as the dumb mutes
buy papers and beer
to cover their world.
Further ahead,
silently greeting castles
surround me
as suburbia
fades upon the city.
Then, the city proper,
all vibrant, and moaning
with angry young men
and angry stray cats
mingling in the darkness.
Soundly safe at home,
the car locked,
the door bolted;
i set the video
for an evening
of Comic Relief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very very good. Makes me feel I am in it, observing. H