i imagine a room
and you are alone,
i do not like to hear a sound of weeping,
do not
weep,
silence is more decent,
it wears the fabric of dignity
a suffering with dignity
the one with eyes that stare at the incoming death
without blinking
the courage of blood corpuscles
that keeps on circulating despite the inevitability of an
ending
there is a travel that has no destination
if we choose to
it is like changing clothes
because we believe in the series of occasions
some wise guys call it a cycle
now, tomorrow, tonight
early morning
noon, the fading of the sun
the shining moments
of little glories
we must believe this
in order not to be shocked by constant endings
it is like a window
where from time to time we set aside
a silk fabric
with tiny embroidered flowers
we open it
when we like it
and when we are tired
we close it
just that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep meanings, the window metaphor was superb to bring the message home, and the title questioning and provocative.