A Widow and a Priest.
It was six in the morning I was on the roof terrace
smoking an illicit cigarette when the ambulance came
gliding into the hamlet, stopped outside Antonio’s
house and carried him out on a stretcher, his wife
came along too; Antonio saw me and feebly waved.
In the forenoon his wife was a widow and she cried.
The house was suddenly full of relative, most of them
women. Funereal at five that day, the widow had been
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem