Tuesday morning, November 1,2022 at 6: 05 a.m.
This morning sky vast, empty, emptied of stars—
like my soul, hers, empty, emptied now—as I survey
from south to west to north, looking from left to right
above our back deck roof, finally back to the East,
my native ground. And the stars? All fled. All fled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Empty; the word lives in full emptyness; but we need to be full and to fill up emptiness with our goodness; whatever nice to read your poetic thinking
Dear Mahtab Bangalee, Thank you for your response to my poem. I appreciate very much your good comment. And I will remember it and put it into practice as much as possible.