New windows are transparent,
Free from tarnish and smudge.
I was such.
Clear-eyed gazing out,
Reflective peering in.
Hand and finger prints have been wiped free,
But around the edges there are still ridges,
Evidence of being opened and closed,
Yet unbroken in a sturdy frame.
But time is no friend to glass.
Winds assail it, birds bounce off at break-neck speed,
Dust accumulates, it becomes opaque.
Missiles assault its permanence,
Shattering the pane into foreboding shards,
Not unlike a broken shell.
Some desperate glazes never get replaced,
They invite stone-throwers.
Then the building becomes derelict, unlivable, untenable.
One stone can break a window,
Or fell a giant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem