These days,
on understated evenings,
those August afternoons
in Biloxi on the beach-
flimsy
shrill
transister radios
planted in the sand
screeching out a Motown hit—
resurface and I don’t care
that love is not like that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
heya..great poem..10 for you :)