morning
is your usual sound
vibrant as the
wings of
a seagull
diving upon
a white
fish
against a blue
sea
it is evening
i sit alone on a chair at the porch
trying to
listen to
your whisper
rising into a
lively conversation
like
a crowd of three
at the
balcony
i am worried
the city has no electricity
and it is dark
you have become so far away from me
like
a vanishing
light
i need you to
make a sound
even the faintest sound
of a cellphone
in silent mode with
a matching
vibration
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem