i am a
non-event,
whereas you were the dawn.
my boldest statements fizzle,
like the long shadows of the trees
stretched across the bright green lawn
the morning of your funeral.
the fresh flowers on your grave and
your weedless plot are expected
and always noted,
but never the deliverer
nor the weeder.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem