I knew
The ball was not in my court
Nor ever thought to have even.
It was but fighting
A losing fight
Firm and intact on ground
Though in a rats blind alley was I.
I knew
Kissing the floating clouds
Is all reverie
As swimming in the pregnant winter mist
However dense it be.
I knew
I was but to smear
The hues of my mind's eye
Though it is illusion mere.
I knew
For me all days
Weekdays or weekends
Are all same
Even anniversaries
Of alter ego or alien
I never remember.
And
To sense all hues in me
I long forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem