There is nothing more to write,
I have written all I could.
My mind refuses to think,
What is there left to brood?
A strange feeling envelops;
I'm empty and yet so full.
Heavy eyes and tired brain
Repel even trivial matters,
I want to sleep, it doesn't come
I move through time in tatters.
I hate to work, I hate to talk
Questions I loathe to answer,
The answers are so many,
Yet there's nothing to utter.
Friends, peers and others
Ask me what's the matter,
I lie to say 'don't bother'
When I know, as you do too,
Without you, I am going over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice confession -touching