Their life, collapsed like unplayed cards, is carried piecemeal through the snow; Headboard and footboard now, the bed where she has lain desiring him where overhead his sleep will build its canopy to smother her once more; their table, by four elbows worn evening after evening while the wax runs down; mirrors grey with reflecting them, bureaus coffining from the cold things that can shuffle in a drawer, carpets rolled up around those echoes which, shaken out, take wing and breed new altercations, the old silences.
Volunteers needed to translate poetry into different languages. Please help us correct the translation of these poems. We currently have 79,663 translations and are trying to create the largest and most accurate database of world poetry translations. We have started with machine translations which are very inaccurate. Please translate your favorite poem on this site. You will be given credit for your translation and a link to your site if desired. COPYRIGHT NOTICE: These poems have been gathered and submitted by many of people, and from many sources. Most have no copyright. However, some may may have copyrights. We have tried to collect poems that appear on many external sites where the author seems to want to disseminate. If you are an author and do not want your poetry translated into other languages then send a removal request and it will be promptly removed.
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