…we drank on
as the night angered,
drank harshly, fully,
and wept with our smiles
at the smiles on other faces
we talked on,
as the night wavered,
of jobs, wives, prices,
the candlelight splashing
our dream shapes
onto dream walls,
our gesturing arms groping
and flailing towards morning
I watched the slow
cobwebs of shadow
that clung to crusty faces
as they searched
the empty window behind me
for the sun
that would not come…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem