I reach through the shadows of a kitchen,
groping the air for the friend I need.
I touch your neck, cold on my skin:
my lifeline as my spirit bleeds.
I reach for a glass, transparent,
like the people on a subway train.
Then, I pour some amber whispers
that stifle screams of pain.
I wander in lonely silence
through the motions of my life,
and yearn for all that might have been
had I not bowed to strife.
So as I lay here in my bedsit,
devoid of love or light,
I'll let your arms embrace me
as I drift on into night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the way you describe each scene is very vivid. You know your craft well. A happy read. Write more.