The dinner is ready.
The lamp is lit.
She is at the dinner table, alone.
Waiting for her adulterous
hubby to come home.
She waits for an hour.
No sign of home. No phone call.
She turns off the light.
Leaves the table, food cold.
Goes to bury herself in the bed, alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good. You were able to capture a moment like powerful photography.