I’m microscopic, streetlights each a moon
to me beneath this asphalt-speckled sky,
where headlights are a comet shower, soon
to echo far my caged-up mortal cry
to see beyond the walls of space and time!
To witness all the worlds’ eternal fire,
I am lamenting what was never mine,
a simple universal eye’s desire.
But yet my spitting loathing for the stars
does rival love for glowing symbols bright,
for comets all we’re streaking fast from Mars
true destined for our crash into the night.
The city's eyes burn still for little things;
your tiny cells shine smooth as Saturn’s rings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem