You, probably, will never pad into my room,
to stand, heart-still, listening for breath,
or search my dream-gone face.
Amidst your worldly goods I stand,
imbibing of you both,
three adrift on seas of wonder.
And grateful I am, and pray
that down the days, I may, through you,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem