and so we made an understanding
to make our fences higher & stronger
& thicker,
we shake our hands and on that very day
we constructed things as planned
we heard some whistling that sound of the
mixing of the cement and sand and gravel
the putting of the blocks and finally the
shushing sound of the finishing touches
since then we could not see their affairs
in the same manner that we have kept strictly
on the privacy of our own events
the visitors that come the drinks shared
we know there is peace now
nothing of the old disturbance but when
everyone leaves to occupy their own private places too
what stays behind is the hoarded silence, this loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem