Birthday
A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who
has to pay to be published how pathetic is that?
We, my companion and I found a restaurant and
for lunch she ate something African.
I had a schnitzel that looked as the white meat of
a rat that had the liver of one who had taken
the pledge lost my appetite.
Instead, I had a double portion of fresh cut salad
followed by a tomato salad with a bit of mozzarella.
I lifted my glass of water saw the eatery through
tears not shed, the few friends I had in Algarve
have all gone they could not stop in time.
The conversations, wit and bottles of red wine
kept flowing, it had to stop so I took the bus home.
Now it is only my beloved and I left and every year
I love her more. At night with a heart full of dread
I snuggle up to her, she strokes my somnolent head
until I fall asleep again and sadness drifts away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem