Right now, in the room next, she seems to say something
At times as I lift my eyelids she appears in vision's periphery
As an incandescent presence in the diaphanous daylight.
At midnight I see a tiny lip movement as the train hoots
And in the wee hours when the cricket cries incessantly.
She does not speak to me in several dreams on my pillow
I know she is now in the other room, the far corner one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem