an empty drinking glass
falls from the hand of the house
help,
it breaks on the floor into
pieces
we hear the sound of the breaking
the shattering
we do not mind, drinking glasses break
the sound is usual and we do not
ever dare to ask why as we are busy
with our usual business
i am reading a book, you are rendering
an accounting on a yellow paper
the guest is preoccupied with the internet
booking for a ticket back home
there is another sound of breaking
that is not evident to everyone in the house
that evening after dinner
and suddenly there is a blackout of the whole island
it is hot, and humid and we perspire
we do not complain, as there is no use
we hear the sound of a breaking as loud as
a nuclear bomb in Hirosma as a documentary film
in National Geographic, we suffer, silently,
we are becoming deaf, we do not mind anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem