The words bubble at my lips,
But I refuse to speak anyway.
For once, I'll keep quiet
And silence the dreary thoughts.
The sadness weakens my hips;
No more boxes will be moved today.
Forgive me for being so defiant,
But the shock tied my brain into knots.
The walls have spoken a lot with the centuries;
Fresh tears rot my diaries and their memories.
I know spirits haunt this house; I saw one myself.
They play with the episodic spiders on each shelf
The biggest part of me
Will be left behind when we leave.
Could the ghost of my past
Stay to haunt the next residents?
I fear the change and the quick unknowns;
The specters and their sorrow sleep my bones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem: quite imaginative and introspective. Perhaps sleep IN my bones was meant here?