DEATH OF THE DOG
Summer's end-- time to put the rugs out again,
amid memories of pee, slobber, detritus of the dog,
lay out the same ones we pulled up for her
- in surprisingly good shape-
a quick vacuuming— stains hardly visible.
Meantime, an old ghost sleeps in the corner,
stirs to wakening,
vying for our attention.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem