morning at the village cafe bar
the 'corps de ballet' sure they know the score
ignore the count and markings on the floor
a shadow plunges from the wall
no pause in conversations at it's fall
across the forest-clearing
the peasantry are there
spinning round on counter-stools
with garlands in their hair
a swan beats at the window with it's wings
and infants in their push-chairs unrestrained
just kick their legs and sing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An enjoyable read, Thanks for sharing.