Clatter. Rambling.
Competing octaves, the cacophony rises over the tenor drone of private conversations.
High pitched clinking of cutlery & crockery; the soprano section.
The breathy alto has his solo as steaming coffee fills the cup.
A chair dragged along the wooden floor provides the bass.
The cafe concerto comes to a crescendo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem