it is late
but it is never
always
late to still play
our games
it is dark
and they already left for their homes.
the rest are quitting
mothers are waiting
and fathers are silent as always
square jawed.
can we still play? yes just the two of us now
under the moon
beneath the trees
our feet soft on the thick grasses
you keep your mouth shut.
you pick up the ball and you throw it to me.
i am now holding it.
but i will not be keeping it for long
i have no use of it now.
i will throw it away.
can we just laugh and be children again?
let us have a new beginning.
that is my only point.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem