the air is oppressive as lead
the Florida I used to love
has betrayed my trust
even the wind is an inferno
the purring of air conditioners
never stops
the ibis forage in the grass
they take their time
there is no point to hurry
a hot damp cloud
covers the landscape
like a blanket of despair
people tend to stay indoors
but I will not settle
I'll find a shady spot
I have my sturdy chair
so I will place it there
and wait for distant October
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem