A fat, noisy
street, outside my apartment
door, I consider-
The day crescendo,
noon, promising no dwindle,
only the sweet moment,
Now. The night happens
by and decrescendoes the
day, as life in times.
Hustle and bustle
replaced by the Cricket
Symphony and frog's burp.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem