No doors and windows in the Mews
Mystery wind peeps and departs
And nothing remains.
But the rusty padlock
Still at the gate.
The rumour spreads among the villagers
Smoke goes to the sky in the night
From the bricked chimney
And smells roasted turkey
While a sad neigh echoes.
An officer goes for the Census
But the gate is locked at all.
* Those who grabs the perishable life never leaves?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem