Here, on the outskirts of the major city,
the trees are slightly bending to the west,
and waking up, one finds the nitty-gritty, --
a girlfriend’s forehead resting on his chest.
Here, time goes by unheeded. Nightingales
sing all day long and street-lamps never fade.
And when the sun arises, it unveils
two star-crossed lovers kissing by the gate.
Here, there is no commotion, all is still,
and mild autumn winds, across the courtyards,
chase golden leaves and raindrops quickly fill
the puddles with the juice from Eden’s orchards.
Here, we can hold each other by the hand
and ramble by the pond with pink flamingos.
Here, we can live in castles made of sand
and whisper from the bottom of the inkwells...