The front of the shop appears pale/dim/dull this morning

The passers by are going far from the coloured dresses

The mirrors are arranged/are lined up/line up on the pavement awaiting faces

No faces furnish/cover/spread out in the passageways/alleys yet

Slumber/somnolence invades the sticky palms of the passers by

On its/his own a single shirt

Appears on the path gaping a mouth to the distance [perhaps ie wide open]

Which thorn threw you in the path of the mirrors? [bold type as in original]

The morning rises up from eyelids heavy with those who revolve/wander around nothing

On its/his own he/it who knows their face

On its/his own

And on their own they ladle/scoop the coming enjoyment/deliciousness from the details of the haggling/bargaining

It/he drowns in the anticipation ??? [laatin] he did not know the value of a thing

It/he did not know how to suck/soak up/lap up the lust/lewdness/desire from a lost button

In the half hidden behind the number written/recorded/registered in the distant void

He fumbles for/gropes for/feels the button itself and lets out his sighs

When her hand crossed the glass front and she discovered its absence

The images of the passers by vanished/dwindled in the gloom/darkness of her fresh/tender absence/disappearance

She [is] the freshness always the secret of the disappearing/falling/disintegrating blaze/glitter in the glass front.