I had watched his vizor
protect his handsome face
for the tiniest bit of the fourth of the fourth,
for all of the third of the fourth
and for most of the fourth's second.
Backyard cricketers in mind, I thought,
'Helmets have made balls faster and wilder.
Preservation of handsomeness matters.
Surveillance by drones
can eternalize helmet use by batters.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem