Cottages hunkered by
the edge of the lake,
awaiting the return
of summer laughter,
voices drifting
down from the bay
A perfect
summer getaway:
no contact,
no service here-
nothing to
dispel the quiet
except the
chirping of the
crickets, or the
droning of the
frogs as they
call to each other
through the still
evening air
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem