I now find myself singing songs
like when I was a child, when someone
would say quiet now, time for quiet
and I would sing, and sing
now I have her, next to me at night
warm body, warm soul, warm eyes
and I sing to myself about wolves
because it makes the moon come alive
and outside the snow is deep and cold
this bed is deep and full of icy sheets
I say enough, she moans, I moan, and
we all fall down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem hints at things not said, or not sung, but what it does carry is delightful. Rgds, Ivan