While we wait and pause,
we see that meager space
in between the swallow of clouds
Constructed within a gaze,
hungered by a single tear
We sit confident and weathered,
looking out past these countless panes
that others sit behind
All of them refracted in light,
vexed in wanting vision and set ablaze
Past these panes are the echoes of many
Amassed in a great symphony of bustle,
rolled afar in clustered chatter
This single pane of glass,
a window that offers to you,
another realm
Let it not be lost to sight,
nor faint in deafened decibel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem