The mirror holds a countenance of grief
seamed with the lines you and the years incised.
It's over at last, I think, without relief.
Why did we fail to make this house a home?
Your wedding smile rests on the mantelpiece:
failed augury in faded monochrome.
The door was always there, beyond the hall,
that we never took. The creeper you put in
to hide raw brick covers the Western wall.
Did you know something beyond I told you so
that you never said? Or was it I had stopped
listening to you oh so long ago......
Not that the answers can change anything now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Melancholy sadness of a true poet.