Sadie slumped in the chair
at her favorite table at Mel's.
Merry Christmas. Yeah, so what?
Six empty glasses were lined up
in front of her on the chipped Formica.
The glass that was still in her hand she
studied with the same intensity
a demented gypsy might upon seeing
her favorite crystal ball suddenly deflated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem