heatwave.
dust whirling,
after mobile departures,
in the decadence
of our multiplying crows-feet.
the sweat of humidity
dropping on neutrally carpeted floors.
beer lubricating
many a rusty throat
as human optimism
and pessimism
make friends with each other
in a warlike fashion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem