My body received rest but my mind was left to wonder
From reality and reason does it continuously falter
The dreams I have dreamt are now long forgotten
They have withered, disappeared, and turned rotten
Vague glimpses of them have left me in a state of confusion
What has been real? What has been delusion?
My head becomes hot, sharp spines within are nailed
My body is sound, but my mind has failed
These types of mornings I always dread
What occurrences could have caused this chaos in my head?
I cannot ask more questions, they make the pain worse
I can only record my experience within this simple verse
Morning is bad, but the day gets better
But what about tomorrow? Or the day after?
Will the morning go well and the day end in distress?
What must I do to avoid this? What must I confess?
One day my conscious I hope to clear
If not, there is no end and limit to my fear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like this a lot. (just to say i love, too, when poems rhyme=)