Viler than any of night
are the horrors
of the gloom of GREY daylight,
when you glimpse the legs and hair
as your face hits a spider's lair,
recognize who's lost and lonely,
not just hear the cries,
and wonder
why it isn't gloomy GREY we wear
when a loved one dies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lost and lonely and grey an assonance linked that cannot no matter how distant, be denied.