First morning
Faded fog, sun arrived
Bloor is scenery of the life
It is worth visiting
Let’s go watch.
People of many kinds
On skates and on bikes
Old and young
Some witches, Aphrodite
Slim, fat, short and tall.
Some chubby ground-hogs
Some are sharp greyhounds.
Some hold leash, walking dogs
Some sitting on benches of roadsides
By lamp-post in blue, of Lansdowne Avenue
One sweeps scattered cup, bottles; other junks
And taxies are in race, do not care, as normal.
But best is:
Drawings, graffiti on the walls
And shops’ signs.
On the day of mourning; and birthday
Summer’s death, and fall’s birth
The scenes are attractive, open eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem