I remember that summer clearly,
dripping its sweat in the streets.
Trees were dying and birds were leaving,
people were dreaming of sleep.
I remember the air was heavy,
I remember so were we...
Dripping harsh words by the dying trees,
blaming the heat and the dreams.
I remember you said something strange -
that you needed a steady hand
to pull the trigger or touch my neck,
but I don't recall what you did.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem