In this restaurant décor
leaves nothing to chance.
One enters through the heavy brass-knobbed door
into a world of unfettered elegance
(brass bowls gleaming like burnished gold
amidst shimmering silver of knives and spoons and forks)
steps over the magical threshold
into plush twilight blue where, long-legged as storks,
slim-waisted waiters weave amongst the low
murmuring ripples of genteel sound
loud enough to drown out the urgent ebb and flow
of the outside world throbbing like an open wound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem