awake only moments
too hot for garments
all else are in tunics
feather fronds in apartments
no ladies to nuzzle
with skin thats unwell
its too hot for being
except in my cell
trying to breathe
in this heat where i fell
it burns where im standing
as you hear and you smell
the sun like a keyhole
a keyhole to Hell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem