Plant that grows upon the sill-
Stretching from your vase;
Reach thee to the ceiling fan:
Your Heaven in this case.
Curtains hang you proud and long:
Just blocking out some light.
Shield my House from wretchedness:
No need these eyes take sight.
Bricks that keep this house from shaking-
Forever may you last;
Until these bones are sore and quaking;
Until, in ground, they're cast.
Groan you not my cracking heart:
I know this house you fettered;
Aching, breaking: stout in Death.
This Home you've always bettered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'groan you not my cracking heart' oh my goodness. that line, just gave me the shiverss... very powerful