Don't let that untouched tea cup
Fool you.
Notice those footprints?
Fossils of a time long gone…
The cobwebs of unlived neatness second that.
And those mails-
Are they oozing out of the door
Or trying to force their way in?
The windows, with dark circles underneath
Reek of emptiness inside.
The barren walls practice being strangers-
Their fidelities divided
between the middlemen and me.
I am neatly packed
in parts
in those boxes I forgot to label.
The movers are here.
No one lives here now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful as always...and moving