No-One comes
to stay in her blue
room with the white
bedspread, flowers
on the corner table
welcoming, no-one.
Full moon travels
near, once in a while,
long yellow fingers
touch the fine linens
there.
Behind the fence,
Pin-Oak leaves
carpet the lawn,
cover the mums...
hide the path
to her door.
Near the entrance
a well-worn rug
waits for visitors,
for friends, who
left it there no-one
knows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like this one. Good poem, good write. May i invite you to read my new called, spirits of the dead.