for five years
already they are sleeping
with their backs facing
each other
upon a molave bed
which their parents
gave as a gift during
their marriage
the windows have
been kept open
every night as the
winds come and go
with all its
coldness
when the moon comes
no one sees its beauty
anymore
in the house
what is felt is the
usual loneliness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem