Conversations whispering all around, and in a corner a
man sits alone, interiorly weeping for the wife he has
lost to death.
Being several years since her death, others being dis-
concerted by his still intense grieving, talking amongst
themselves about him and how he should get over it.
Not understanding his heart of love for only one woman
in his life, trying to get him to do what he cannot,
hurting him deeply.
As he sees only uncaring and selfish people whom he thought
loved and cared about him, but the whispering tells him it's
not so.
In these situations seeing only their selfishness, nothing
to do with what he's feeling, not understanding his feelings,
his heart, his love.
When leaving and going home to his empty house, sitting
isolated in a corner, sobbing, tears falling rapidly from
his heart onto the floor in front of him, a pool of love
for his wife, now gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem