Rusted and corroded-
crumbling tintypes left to rot
in a soggy hat box
in the attic.
Too long forgotten-
they haunt me.
Specters drawn from nightmares
that are waking, ever present
always lurking, 
in broad daylight, 
in the moonlight, 
they are waiting, 
patiently for me-
to remember.                
 
                    This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    