(To: Yelena Anatolyevna Shakhovtseva, Russia)
Was it paradise or hell,
A curse or a blessing –
This passing day
That the passers-by,
Fervently and tirelessly,
Weed out of their Eyes
Though they know
That, in the aftermath,
What they can only do
Is to wait helplessly
Lamenting
The loss of their sight.
(Chicago, USA,18 March 1994)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem