He was smoking as he breathed
His exhalation expelling white clouds
In the subzero frost of the 16th Street Mall
That frigid icebox of a Denver day
December Mall traffic was bustling
And the doppelganger Santa
Just kept ringing that Salvation Army bell
Next to where he set his cowboy hat
The occasional passerby
Dropped coins or a buck into his charity well
Which still smelled of the rodeo days
As he juggled the balls without missing a beat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem