I smiled a slanting street,
Seldom had I come to such a stinging fear
As this student of the times and worries,
This sucking smell of the past flours.
I saw a baking fleet, worried
About the chief worries,
And the bread of a fire raging on,
With students in fleeing mode.
The few passersby wore housetops,
Looking through the glasses,
Baking at home's kitchens,
Feeling the warmth of their fires.
I saw a fading dream in the lives
Of men who felt too many stings
Of money and power,
Dining for them was a treat too fair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem