Goodbyes at the open front door
On a Sunday morning in Summer;
An aeroplane shines in the sun;
At home I can learn about solitude.
In the town it’s midday mass time-
A time and a place to be peaceful:
A short truce in the struggle of life;
I purchase the Sunday Press paper.
I’m welcomed in home by the dogs
And a friendly telephone caller;
My daughter awakes at it’s ringing;
Once again my world is revolving.
I am able to admire the day’s beauty-
The far distant mountains before me;
Like a train from a tunnel emerging
I have returned to the lap of creation.
(My own translation of my poem in French 'Solitude')
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem