Here
you come
so often in the
dusk
are you enamored
of it?
pine with it?
for
there
on those stairs
olden and ancient
made of centuries
I see you sit
and move not
and speak not
word.
perchance
you wait
a nightingale's song
albeit
distances among
to cheer your
failing heart?
A sad violin
that plays
from some open window?
Your sadness be
greater than you
greater than family
greater than humanity
knows not
extinction
though
extinction
looks you in the face
stark raw and naked
and still
still you continue
continue on the stairs
to sit
on those stairs
olden and ancient
made of centuries
I see you sit
and move not
and speak not
word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem