On a balcony across from the Laundromat,
I watch the daylight decompose.
Hookers look 'en for a little cash,
how many pickups how many fights?
Flashing lights,
the sirens,
this is how it always is.
A city's collective attitude,
unforgiving winter's night.
Willing acceptance,
no disbelief.
Cacophony of broken sounds,
declarations of emptiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sad song for a winter night. Thank you for sharing. Kindest regards, Sandra