SAD MEN DO NOT DANCE WITH PARTNERS
Sad men scare the birds away,
the clouds descend down
to their brooding foreheads
and break into sheer, opaque rain.
The flowers languish
in the gardens of sad men.
Their steep downfall tempts the death.
The women within a woman
are born at the same time
right before the eyes of sad men.
The woman-vessel open her belly again
and offers him her redeeming milk.
The woman-child kisses with fervor
his paternal hands, the hands of a desolate widower.
She walks there silently in the house
brightens his hours and patches up
all the holes in his breast.
There is something else she lends him:
her two hands, as if they were wings.
But the sad men can’t listen their music.
There is then no woman more lonely,
more lonely in sadness,
than the one who loves a sad man.
Translation from www.poetryinternationalweb.net