A Tanka Sequence
she and I
sit across the table
in the morning
bearing the silence
of another new year
separated
and yet living quietly
under the same roof
we used to share
a ripe pomegranate
she can’t stand me
even in a photo
bits and pieces
of our honeymoon
drifting into the dark
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Family relations are like a thread. Stretch them more, they break. Twist them more, their nature complicate. A thoughtful tanka Sir. I wish to learn this form too :)