Wall Street
I am standing
on a corner on Wall Street
in New York
waiting for her
though I know she will never come
my body is a tiny ant
standing among millions of giants
the city overcrowded
the air overpopulated
there is no room, not even for my soul
yellow taxis passing by
like peaches in my back yard
yellow taxis passing by
and shouting in unison
how beautiful America is
how beautiful America is
oh, and how razor sharp!
About this poem
| Author | Narlan Matos |
|---|---|
| Translator | José F. Bañuelos-Montes; Sally Perret |
| Language | English |
Publications
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Narlan Matos, trans. José F. Bañuelos-Montes and Sally Perret
10 Poems
2018
Interim
Translation: English
Translated by José F. Bañuelos-Montes; Sally Perret