The trees sway back and forth as if to dance with the wind;
the street lights come on as the sun sets and the darkness begins.
The chill of the night falls on the city as the wealthy go to bed;
while others look for a place, any place, just to lay their head.
The dumpsters filled with left overs from the restaurant's busy day;
The hookers soliciting business, looking for those who like to pay.
The gangsters looking to start trouble- just for kix;
while the crack head is trying to score his next fix.
The night is all that these people know;
they're lost in the underworld with nowhere else to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem