When does the window clear-
After the rain, after all hope
Leaves?
Does it take time, the space
Of two deep breaths or
Of nine dark years?
A turn, here, again, and once
More. The glass, silvered
by the rain, trembles, and sheds
Each drop. Repeated until
All is forgotten, remembered
Only by the gray streaks
Traced in sharp lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem