A plane roars above
rattling the loose sheets of the roof.
Clearly he hears the click-click
of the barber's cold shears
close to his jugular vein.
He swallows, dryly -
a distant memory
brushes his brow
feathery, ever so lightly -
as a big ball of new grey hair
softly - heavily falls in his lap.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Can I please have the analysis of this poem