You sit in the garden all afternoon
this drives me up the ivied wall.
I repair indoors to my keyboard
to tap out in the half light that I love
Romantic, idyllic, pastoral poems
about an England long faded from view.
This is the difference between we two,
you are in each miracle moment
while I can only watch the febrile seconds pass
on a merciless, slowing clock
recording their footprints
on a dust destined page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem