the photograph wondered
why you had half of a face only
and what kind of darkness
the other half occupied
the photograph wondered
why you let it be taken
knowing its nothingness
in due years time
in half managed trivia
of light and shade and colour game
the photograph wondered who the photographer was
which street he lived in and why the street
cobbled in shadows of silver steps and Moon
never howled at the darkness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem