From one day to another
all remains the same.
And it is good
that it is not even worse.
Since all can always
be worse than it is.
So I am pulling hopes
out of my pockets
Hoping that they
will cover the bills.
Then I go into my dreams,
filled up with imagination
On all roads on which
my thoughts are deserting me.
Vida Nenadic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem