In this college town
three girls of Spring are fresh bread
brown before the noon of May.
In pink and yellow frocks,
with hair unfurling in the breeze,
they laugh and glisten in the sun
and like good daughters wave
to the old professor on a bench
who’s waiting for the end of day.
He waves back and smiles his best,
knowing girls like these, once close,
now wander many miles away.
A philosophical idea comes in the poem and a beautiful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem lovely in its metaphors, its tranche de vie, and its touching, nostalgic fini.