i'm not alone waiting for spring
waving flowers beautiful hillside
kites above my eyebrows colorful
smoke rising from barbecue pit
football streaking past my head
moments of peace under tree, book
shorts, sandals fill every eyeballs
big brown, wide narrow or very small
roaring call of wilds awaken nature
treading feet pounding paths more
plastic bottles litter every ground
scattered minds looking for mound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the first stanza is very imaginative and the smell of barbeque is unique, the last line of this poem is interesting!