The house is dark again.
Music drifts,
softly settles
like dust
on my face.
Now is the time
when veils decline-
when I can see
the faint motion
of breath;
my chest rising and
falling, life expelled
and pulled sharply back:
living and dying
in one, simple
motion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem