This house which we rent
We thought belonged to us.
Here beneath
The cross beams, the lintels
And the truss,
We've bared our souls;
Here we slowly framed
Our trust.
And then with curt warning
We learn
'We must'
Move out;
'There's nothing to discuss.'
In law we have no claim
Upon these walls,
This frame;
These rooms
The life
With which we furnished;
Soon
Will be extinguished;
Empty parquet floors and barren shadowed walls
Will stir nothing to recall.
We're reminded
By this event:
In life we only rent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem