What will wake me
from my slumber
is keeping me
from the dreams
to come. The endless
hum of electricity,
softer than dew,
whispers to my ear
and mind. The thoughts
of sleep are blurred,
from behind the
harsh numbers.
Quiet nights are
spent with the
invisible sounds
that fly
from room
to room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem