interlude
sleeping on the rooftop
lulled by mourning doves
escaping curious eyes
uncouth lips and hands
here no massacres
no burlap sacks in open pits
the yellow days ask nothing
but green awe
delighted petals
shower wet pavement
city´s skyline shimmers
stirred by morning sun
tall towers glitter
god's eye view
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem