I saw the old lady.
she was walking,
walking in the evening.
a stick supports her
in the dark.
dark never touched her.
her weak steps
made me unhappy.
i am entering into the days,
days of my future.
the opaque eyes
never dreams a high hope.
the stick of the lone lady
wanted to show the path.
she is alone,
she is making me alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem