It rains so softly over
Resilient abutments;
It feels as if I were seventeen again,
And made of beautiful scars,
And the atmosphere on my skin,
A woman’s kiss who is about to die,
Like a stewardess on her last trip,
Thinking of a candlelit dinner- of the
Men there,
As she flies by my window
Never looking in and
Disappears into the turbulent mist
That will see her off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem