Monotony of repetition is encased in moments of drunken stupor.
People talking, but not speaking of anything of importance because they're not hearing or listening to conversations being spoken.
Tearfully engraving moments of silence onto ceramic
plagues of insignificant bliss, causing a compulsion of
disregard for any other being in rooms of dizzying fog.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem