That Empty Old House
how sad it seems
as if it contemplates
old forgotten dreams,
and in those empty rooms
and amidst it's crumbling walls
the echo's speak in whispers
if they dare to speak at all,
the wind flutters a tattered curtain
over a broken window pane
and stirs the dust of ages
on a sagging old door frame,
and in that empty old house
only shadows move upon the walls
and the echo's speak in whispers
if they dare to speak at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem