gazing,
i always find myself transfixed.
looking through a window
as i sip my usual doze of cappuccino.
floor by floor
i could witness it goes higher and higher
is it made by mortar and pestle?
is it made with flesh and bones?
i don't know
it just that,
it spurt up from a meager meadow
-a growing construction!
gazing,
i always find myself transfixed.
looking through a window
imagining,
what it would be like
to leave it as it is
and create a condo
good for two
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem