Afternoon gray off the Golden Gate Bridge
Clears away now to a lingering blue
With expansive day soaked in bright sunlight;
Tourists ride through wealthy Marin County
As their guide recounts his own narrative
Of the way things used to be in the great
Long-distant past of San Francisco, gone -
"Everything was safe and clean in those days,
Children could walk the streets alone at night, "
He sighs, driving the big bus uphill
To a park submerged in Redwood shadow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem