A bright, clear and cold night…
The near full moon setting low in the winter sky,
Illuminating the bare tree branches;
Casting ghostlike shadows on the snow;
Ghostly arms and fingers stretching around the yard.
At three in the morning
I am looking out the window of an empty room;
An empty room in a lonely house.
A house made quiet with your passing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem