The Scream.
The new and young couple next door, for whom
all car adverts are made, came home late last night,
high voiced and full of spirit. Later on I heard her
cry out loud and thought: “wine, a man who slaps
his wife around when drunk.”
Next day I saw her in their cute little garden, she
wore the right outfit to prune roses, laughed
called her hubby darling and I remembered that
the voices of love and pain sound alarmingly
the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem