there would be no count-down
or blast-off
no excessive speed
just a gradual accelaration
no need for cumbersome attire
a blazer or a sweater would suffice
they're off
roof-top height
then the clouds
or is it steam
or smoke
or fire
no it's the setting sun
and then the parachutes
we counted three
the engine-driver
the fireman
and the guard
someone observed
jokingly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem