I languish
in the company
of minstrels
weeping of willows
setback from verges
pastures
on cold days
and May days
and those days
that hide me
under low clouds
and awnings
above which
the birds sit
and chirp out
their classics
in song
but then my song
is low key
as shoes pass
abruptly
like no-one
no faces attached
imposters in breezes
but like Amsterdam
there's always the bridges
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem