The streets are almost empty tonight
as they seem to be most nights now
like the hollow hallways of a dormant museum.
Doors and windows stitched tightly shut,
the silence is an artful dream.
Dazzling darts may pass through,
but I am unaware.
In turn they are oblivious
to my beseeching stare
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem