Quietly sitting, watching reflections as if they were
live paintings.
Noticing their lack of color in the evening light, they
look dead-pan faced with no emotions showing.
Every once in a while, figures going walking or running
through the reflections of images, which I am staring at.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoyed very much reading your poem it was dream like.