i have seen her
today. She is lost in the other horizon.
She is here with us but she is not with us.
i cracked jokes, and for the meantime she laughs.
I ask her for a dance. she refused.
I give her some beer, she does not drink any.
She is a mourning widow. She was loved and she felt that.
And then he was gone. it was too sudden. She lost balance.
I can imagine what she will do with his personal things still
in the house.
She says she will be giving them all away to ease forgetting.
The sea is breezy.Trees are cool and the cottage is spacious.
She rests her body in a hammock and slowly she rocks herself
to the monotony of time. Depression is not easy to handle.
It does not listen. It does not talk.
It keeps on burning your guts.
She is feeling acidic. Her stomach is painful.
She is leaving and she takes the wrong key to her car.
Now we are waiting. We also want to go home.
It is getting dark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem