Tossing everything into an empty vehicle,
not leaving any particle of music's rhythm
behind in a restaurant closed for the night.
All the chairs are being put upon the tables,
lights growing dim and voices suddenly quiet
in the silent moments before the door is
locked behind everyone.
The last person looking over his shoulder,
tears in his eyes and heart, not wanting a
good time to be over and done with.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem