It's very sad to see
The cemetery of Automobiles
At the Twilight!
Like dead souls
Piled up to the sky.
A Guy comes out of the rickety gate
With an acoustic guitar
And he enters the bar.
It's full of smoke
With dim lights
And here & there
Women & Men dance.
Waiting for him to sing.
He sips a can of beer
And strums the guitar
Then started singing;
'Here's the tiny bar
Behind the junk yard
Once those beautiful cars
Ran like Jets; Yet seemed to be proud
And showed the prestige!
My life's a car
But I cannot go far
When it's not roadworthy
I have to come here
As they say I am not trustworthy!
My life is a car
Though it's roadworthy
Where can I go
If the paths were closed unanimously?
*Humbly to the poetess Vessy in gratitude!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem