Becoming undone.
And bending.
Is never any fun...
Whenever it starts and comes.
No.
Becoming undone.
And bending.
Is never any fun...
Whenever it starts.
And with a doing that overcomes.
Feeling to be,
One pulled apart.
And no relief,
Is there.
With no air to breathe freely.
And none seems to be,
There to spare.
Anywhere.
And it is,
Becoming undone.
And bending.
Is never any fun...
Whenever it starts and comes.
No.
Becoming undone.
And bending.
Is never any fun...
Whenever it starts.
And with a doing that overcomes.
And it is,
Becoming undone.
And it is,
Becoming undone...
To begin and start,
With a doing that overcomes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem