Two pairs of pigeons on the cornice
watch humans below argue
over parking space,
nylon ropes,
and
flowers stolen from
neighbour's immortal tree
Two pairs of pigeons live on the cornice
since the dawn of the great
condoville.
Busy making intimate love
beak to beak, skin to skin.
Look down when they're free;
look down upon the architects
busy with nylon ropes.
(From my Anthology "Seaside Myopia: A Book of Poems", Cyberwit.net. Now Available in Amazon)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem