Indolent skyline, sinking with sadness
Peaked at a grey, dull sign of madness.
Even the stars seem carelessly bright;
Perched atop the city on a cold, grey night.
Headlights peek inside our windows
As for once we don't care to see them.
And in the backseat of a quiet night
We become more than we were in the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem