Melancholy, brooding, watching rain drops fall
incessantly into pools of sadness already re-
siding within.
Nourishing grief, keeping it readily available
so I can write of it in poetry, life inherently
filled with loneliness left us after death of
those we have loved.
Leaving a void, an emptiness that can never be
quenched while we are yet alive, trying, knowing
that there are no substitutes to give us what we
had before.
Only empty gestures holding false hopes, quieting
our souls for moments at a time when we are with
another.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem