I used to enjoy this solitude.
With good books and music to keep me company.
My mediocre writings kept me busy.
Small projects that remained unfinished.
I was content with it all.
Comfortable, if I may say.
I used to enjoy this solitude.
Now all I have is these books and songs on repeat.
I write of the same subject
and disposed of my projects.
In need of something new.
I have no choice.
Life unfolds.
I stay the same.
I stay comfortable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem