SUN
on your hands
grasping the boat's tree oars
on your legs
walking the New Ancient City
WATER
on your stomach
dryng in puddles of salt
in your hair
against the Travelled Train Seat pillow
SMILES
in the reflection
of the hotel elevator mirror
on the ageing faces
of the Suddenly Close, Distant relatives
RAIN
against the roof
of the exploring island boats
on your eyelids
as you're Happily Crying, Laughing in the yards
And somehow
you're just Not Ready
to (Reversingly) Return
to a stressed life
in a gray city
full of people performing perfectly
the roles they've been gven
at birth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem