Is it really possible for a year to have started off as
badly as this one and, more to the point, should
it have done? Had anyone said to me prior to
its onset that this is how it would be I would
have upbraided them for being paranoid.
Yet everything I do regardless of the
meticulous care I expend and the
scrupulous precautions I take to
avoid foreseeable and even improbable
problems which may occur, I always end
up having to confront one calamitous
situation after another; why so? I
wish I knew, for at least I could
then realistically hope to
convince the morons
involved, as I’ve
done with myself,
that I’m not
going mad!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem