The summer, it watches over winter
Manchester, you get stuck like the splinter
in the skin of the industrial mother
standing by his side watching him suffer
the citys bright lights are just a cover
for the body lies under the dieing
the citys tears fall, the sky is crying
the jogger, he soon becomes a sprinter
The summer, it watches over winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem