As I stare out across the rooftops of paris
the moonlight dancing off the tiles
I feel the breeze as it drifts through the city
And saunters on for miles and miles
A black and white cat is making it's rounds
As it turned a corner into my field of vision
The birds not yet chirping or on the wing
Yet it's carefully contemplating every desicion
As the skies lighten I know I must rest
Though not yet feeling the allure of the bed
I toast to the rooftops with my final drink
For tomorrows a new day and it's not far ahead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insider's view of nocturnality as a lifestyle... I relate to this quite well.