This is one of the worst nights.
Cold
Tired
Wanting to sleep
But deprived of the ability
The natural stimulus to do so.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Perhaps, I should run
Off to nowhere
Have you seen a path so protracted
That it appeared almost endless?
I don’t know what I am doing,
But to run
With no further reason
Just drag these limping, superfluous legs
I will endure the winter
For the winter is my closest friend.
Nevertheless,
Run.
Run.
Run.
It’s the only option I have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem