Chicago ran a fever of a hundred and one that groggy Sunday.
A reporter fried an egg on a sidewalk; the air looked shaky.
And a hundred thousand people were in the lake like shirts in
Why was Johnny lonely?
Not because two dozen solid citizens, heat-struck, had keeled
Not because those lawful souls had fallen out of their sockets
But because the sun went down like a lump in a furnace or a
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem