It is not often
When the quiet comes
To this room.
In the flurry of days
There was ever strange
And familiar din
Plastering the cracks
Of the walls,
Dusting the crevices
Of the floor.
Perhaps it has always
Awaited the coming
Of the surprise guest.
But now, it is caught
Unprepared.
The only welcome
Is this answering silence
Gleaned from endless songs
Whispered on nights
When the room contained
No other.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem