Troubled we silence the sights
as the flashing blue lights
speed on down some other street.
We force ourself into selfish sleep.
Too much has been seen
most of which we will surely dream
until mornings viciously arrives
and we shall think about the demise
of a old forgotten man named Jim
with yellow eyes and clingfilm skin.
a stranger up until this very night
when we were awoken by a flashing blue light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem