red brick checkered chimneys;
soft smoke pluming wisps.
cold clear autumn sunrise;
warm thick stovetop grits.
deep-dark sappy pancakes,
burnt but brown beneath;
cartoons roll cross airwaves;
fireplace plumes red sheaths.
then all morning melts away;
a sticky sun shines all cruel.
but oh! how we long for sunrise,
long like lepers do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so beautiful, reminds me of looking at San Fransico'sskyline at dawn. Great to see your writing again! X's and O's