There's nothing new goes on in his life.
Life is such a bore.
One day is just like the other
and both are like they were before.
Can it ever change?
Can excitement come again?
Can he remember how it used to be?
He's gotten used to this state he's in,
this weariness and ennui.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem