Above the loud hoardings
Stoking a thousand desires
The trees stand
Tall and clear
More of the sky than earth
Darker than green
In the gathering night
Like the parrots
Now hastening home
With their happy screech
And long tell-tale tails;
On the road margin
Preening eves keep craning their necks
For buses which never seem to come
Or keep going the other way;
Near my feet
The vagrant stirs
Sits up, rubs his eyes,
Looks around
Misses his dream
Falls asleep again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem