Like a bird it flies with soft souls
And the matured feels like a wrong detainee holds the book; Fannie Flagg's 'Fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop cafe'
Stands at a lonely bus stop.
His torn season ticket seems to be not valid to get a comfortable seat
And he left behind like a desperate hornet
Who seeks fragrant flowers in an off-season.
*Let heavy rains fall into the Australian bush fire to survive of this catastrophe!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nimal, Jerry and I deeply appreciate the dedication of this nostalgic poem about childhood and the bus we all remember catching to get to school. Although we have escaped the fires (this time) we know that next year, or the one after, the fires will come again. It would be wonderful to return to the earlier days of your poem, when global warming and its horrendous consequences weren't so powerfully demonstrated. We still wait for rain. In the meantime, the country continue to burn. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥