He finds flattende fields
With paused yields.
He sees tired troubled trees
Standing in leafy rubble.
He gestures at the greenish grass
"It seems to lack panache? "
He cuts through coughing cities
Curious about the crying.
He gets off the triumphantly tiring train
Yawning in the morning rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lol hello Johann. dont mind me. im just looking for stuff on the internets