The evening inside us.
We simplify our eyes.
We learn how to see
The visible. The obvious.
Crepuscular hours.
Death is not closer,
Nor life.
They were always
Inside us.
The years of being
The judge, the accused.
All that's left is our sigh:
Our witness.
...
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem