Waiting again
Are we?
The ashes lie at the hearth;
Neither will sweep them up
Neither will sweep them away.
Grey and cold, they wait.
Even the promise of hot breath laced with desire
And need,
Can't stir them.
They know and they wait...
They all wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poems are intriguing because of so much that they do not say but allude to. That's makes them all the more interesting.