Too early
Early for two hours, even more
I look at the white doors.
Ivy green, scattered all around
Make shadows on the walls.
“Is my host sleeping? ” on my mind.
I lean back in car’s seat, is reclined.
Eyes roll and look around at all sides
Vertical windows’ shades in the front.
Narrow are slots between blades; show inside
I see them as showcase: “Thoughts race on.”
In silence, no motions, all is doubt
I am bored, half lonely, half tired.
I am fire when thinking ‘under ash.’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem