Photo: lmaji
Morning comes out of the blue
with free freshness
and a babble of dying stars.
The stairwell smells of coffee.
Behind doors
people are weightless.
At bus stops they nestle
against invisible pillows
and hope to hear a voice announce
False start.
Morning is cancelled.
Back to bed, all of you.
Translated into English by Gregory O’Donoghue
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