In the quiet
I hear a sound
Fills me with dread
Every time
Though the years
I look up
Even when inside
I learned it
Then I was young
To know it well
What it meant
Never is good
Always is bad
Bad for someone
Always is bad
Long ago
Many years
Learned to fear
Copters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem