he used to hate
all the mess in the room
the used and dirty clothes
in bed, the underwear hanging
in the bathroom,
the letters still unopened,
the quarrel on bills
the unwashed cups in the kitchen
the arguments that seem
endless
and the silent regrets about
what should not have
been
until she was gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem