I couldn’t find the street
Where my lover used to live
A morass of houses
Anyway it doesn’t matter
Hopeless, bringing back the past
The festive street
Now that bars and clubs have shut
But is a dark hunting ground
Where a rats, caught by cats, shrieks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Jan, Voters have been pretty hard on you. I don't agree at all.I think that you managed to condense a lot lot of impact into what you had to work with.Enjoyed them both
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