My home is nested
In an urban canyon.
The generous space
Between vertical structures
Is amply provided
To sustain life.
A family of wild ducks
Made the swimming pool
Their summer home.
Where are they now?
Two people walk by
Cupping steaming mugs
From the neighborhood café.
Lamps glowing
Behind veiled windows
Offer quick glimpses
Of bourgeois comfort
And untold stories.
Curiously sheltered
From social ills
And modern age anxieties
The village is quiet
Bracing for snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem