Backwards man in a shack
looking over days gone by
chill winds that blew
through the dwellings rotting timber
shadows flit and flicker
as he slips in and out of slumber
reflections pricking and twisting
as his body stiffens
and frees him from earthly binds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your minimalist use of language and words. You often convey more by using less. This poem kind of sneaks up on you. Well written.