Little by little
We learn
The language of solitude.
We are less and more alone.
The body: an aged home.
The door to our loneliness:
Cracked by the years and by rain.
It lets the murmur flood us.
It's evening in our body.
There is more of ourselves:
The vast gaze. The immense quiet.
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From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem