There is a room seems dead
When children spread their wings-
But leave faint laughter; funny things,
Impressions in the bed..
Here, where they laid their head
There, where once a crayon drew
On white walls, a random shrew;
You'll see the barest threads..
The grown up kills that child
Breathed through him, all those years
Through smiles and many tears
And now is tamed, the wild..
Your heart's own scars decree
A piece has gone away-
Some other, farther day-
What was, can never be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem