The first thing the quiet:
the sweet-smelling, raucous parakeets,
her pets,
gone.
The still house unsympathetic:
Gaping holes dot bookcases;
empty closets glare
like curious neighbors
gift music boxabandoned
with her ring.
Plants brown and yellow,
(yet those re-potted,
indeed, much healthier)
House, empty, quiet-
quiet
as if holding it's stale breath.
Dishwasher and dryer
complete the tale:
Gone her prints from glasses;
from sheets-
her scent.
Nothing hers remains-
except the mysteries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear poet, heart touching poem.very well