How still the night,
Without your presence,
When love took flight
Life lost all essence,
For what is life?
Without Love's breath,
An empty shell
In Ocean's nest,
Pushed back and forth
By ill felt winds,
All beauty dies,
And all is still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is a stillness when you are completely fulfilled in the moment and don't need words or gestures, just presence, for example, the presence of your partner. There is another stillness which is emptiness, when the need for words and gestures AND presence is acutely felt, but you are bereft of everything. That's the stillness that frames this poem. It is a terrifying reality.