Sunday Haiku
Dust on bookshelves
tells of life lived, stillness
Spanish bluebells tolls
Among old olive trees
flowers as yellow as butter
distance is hurtful.
A framed photo
mother hangs on a wall
wordless she speaks.
A white coffin
her face was in harmony
beautiful the peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem