The distant engines
repeat. Copy, by carbon copy.
With each a tale
of a soul.
With each, a human.
Thoughts, feelings
and most intimate desires.
Some speak soft and
hold fast. Some bring
hate in there hearts.
Some cry.
The distant engines roar
approaching from all directions
in those cars,
each loved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem