The gossip echoes through the hall with no curtain,
Where the essential furniture are not kept for comfort,
In empty space the silent sound echoes a lot, scary a bit,
The more you whisper the wrong; it echoes the wrong, not the right.
When the knowledge furnishings are done,
When the curtains are hung with decorative tie back,
Foundations of carpets are laid on the floor,
The hall gets humbled, what we speak, can be heard clear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Echoes do return to confirm what we already knew. Like your poem.