we are numb.
we pass by the boulevard
at 5 p.m. and people there
enjoy the silence of the
setting sun
spreading the soft warmth
of its fading....
perhaps we have transcended
the need for slowing down.
perhaps we are carried away
by our own crowded minds.
perhaps we have not time for
this,
for there is war and we are
called upon to fight it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem