My mind, thrashing about, fighting the reality
That you are no longer here.
My world, so full of your absence,
Our house, wasting away in quiet despair.
A table setting for one now, if at all;
No loathsome smell of magic shave.
No sweet aroma of your cologne.
Our half empty bed, and no love sounds.
Yesterday I reached out for you, forgetting.
Called your name again, forgetting.
The sound of crying again, my own.
Remembering you had returned to dust,
And I to loneliness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, I guess I have to concede on this one Dorothy. This is, indeed, an outstanding piece of short prose. You got it all in there. You used all your words and wasted none. It lacked a little lyrical quality, but Hell. If you had done that as well, I might just have to call it poetry.Congratulations! GW62