been in that gloomy room
the linens are pale and there is a hole
where a mouse goes in and out
in familiarities
my wife did not like it
and angrily told me that
it will be the last time
alone i went there again
same rat, same paleness, same
gloom
but not completely
i open the window at midnight
to see the dances of the lights
and the crowd of people and cars
and girls
and with all the glass windows
i do not hear the murmurs
and whispers
and sometimes those screams
it is like a silent movie
you were once here too
and you called me
that you had just arrived from
a very long trip
you told the hotel keeper
writing my name on a piece
of paper,
'let him in my room
when he arrives.
we are friends'
it was raining so hard
and i told the hotel keeper
'my shoes are muddy,
and i better wait at the
lobby'
hot coffee, just hot coffee
and some happy talks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem