Petrified cities are silent for ages
The eternal movement of love
A glimpse through a window
The eternal step over the threshold
A word sticking out of half - opened lips
Eternal pride and poverty
Rain hanging over the thirsty earth
And every morning the same sweeper
Loiters around idly
With a broom in his hand
But he from another kingdom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem