At the end of the line
there's a swinging door
where short-wave radio won't reach
there's a waiting-room
and a rancid spoon
in a bowl of furred-up peach
there's a verandah
and a sleeping -car
and sand's blown-up from the beach
there's curtains
and the soft-pad paws
of a mutt and a steel guitar
and the little god from tumbleweed
plays chords
as loose as straw
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brady its nice poem but can you explain, don't ignore plz