it is the uncertainty that is certain
and that sends a tremor in this life
you wake up and feel dejected at
the soft wind beating your face;
it is summer time,
wind does not feel soothing;
you watch the crow perched at
the edge of the roof staring at you;
someone will be arriving;
and your newspaper has nothing
special to tell except scary things that
make you vomit in the basin;
nothing is certain expect the time
that turns your hair black to gray
without you knowing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem