It's late inside us.
We realize we have the power
To be happy, to be sad.
Appeased evening.
We realize shadows contain
The memory of light.
Dusk.
Our face: a shattered mirror.
It looks at us.
It fills our eyes
With broken glass.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem