Sitting inside a waiting room, drinking water, looking out
the window, watching people passing by, not even knowing
that I'm alive and watching.
People doing all kinds of things, thinking no one's look-
ing, little do they know, this mere poet's mind is captur-
ing them on an interior photographic screen.
Placing everything into photographic memories forever, a
man walking by just now, pulling up his shirt, showing his
chest, then pulling it back down.
Why, I'll never know or understand, a woman slowly walking,
stopping, looking around, talking to herself, then realizing
what she's doing as someone walks towards her.
Could tell she felt embarrassed by the sheepish look upon
her face, and the fact that her face turned beet red in
the process.
It's such fun people-watching, always a delight and it
gives many details for me to write into poetry, some are
funny, others sad or otherwise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem