stashed away in a tattered file
are mental photographs I keep
for consciousness to reconcile
the ancestry of yesterday
the house itself has fallen now
but memory lifts them from decay
I look out on the silent pond
the afterglow of setting suns
across the fields and far beyond
and finally near the cemetery
I bow to honor those at rest
in whispered prayers for sanctuary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem