Sunset light lingeringly faded
as street lights at once on.
Streets still noisy and live.
Darkness slowly moved
around bright bulbs turning
streets quietened, and melancholic.
Bright squares of windows
briskly went off.
He, at the window watching
enveloping darkness.
Moths whirling at the light.
Room was dark and empty.
A bike whizzed through
the lane with a red dot.
It's an other world now.
Is night murmuring something?
Nice to imagine and listen that.
Then with eyes shut
he touched the quite dark
of the room, then saw
the long Que of the street lights
marched straight into him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem