Buried deep behind closed doors,
where no light reaches, no echo lingers.
They move quietly, like shadows in water,
invisible, yet always there.
Sometimes they tremble in a glance,
in a sigh that lingers too long,
in hands that hesitate
before continuing as if nothing happened.
But at night,
when walls whisper
and silence weighs heavier than words,
they find a way to the surface.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem