Wafts of mist draft as
soft-focus lenses of
time over the hot spring.
Bulging bodies wallow
in idleness and affluence.
Many a tear is mixed
with the wet - in vain.
Water carries more reliable
than certain sorts of love.
The young ones swim away
in the face of the ruins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bulging bodies wallow in idleness and affluence! Awesome! Forgive me if I rifle through your submissions and pick out the tasty bits.