When your vocal chords contract in choruses of distress...
when semi-breves of laughter are just semi brief moments of mockery tainted joy....
when good times are but fantasies and misfortune seeks to impress...
when all seems pointless..and your existence seems coy...
when your strength is displaced...
I SURE WILL BE THERE... OR?
You will ignore my frantic waves..strong enough to waive your pain
You will rather puff your sorrows back into place with nicotine...
You will scrape hope from your feeble being...
You will swig barrels...all to naught...
you could as well scale the afadjato..with a single leap
you just choose to be oblivious to the fact that....
I SURE WILL BE THERE...OR?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem