The appeased shadows.
We realize the little defeats
Were our own:
Mother and child
Of what we are.
The little desert of twilight.
Even our regrets are a dry river:
They have consumed their tears.
Evening's voyage.
It is the tears
That carry our eyes.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem