An insomniac night - I don’t feel so bright - should
I eat something, drink bitter coffee or keel over on
my desk; the last option is the best but colleagues
would have no rest until this evil deed is revealed
to the overseer, Mme La Pompadour or June
Listening to a forlorn voice wailing like Anderson’s
Little Mermaid in my earphones; imagine how tired
and sad Rusalka, a lovelorn Water Sprite after she
saw her Prince only once - is she in for a surprise
once the romance is gone, but Song to the Moon
Is beautiful; a bright guru says ‘tend relationship
with Source, Soul or God’ – I suspect it’s a Soul,
an immature one who allows splintered me as a
small part of universal consciousness, to waste
precious life with headache and black coffee
Let’s hope Spirit learns never to send me to earth
again but to another dimension without a physical
body to mess with –and where I can be lively and
high-spirited all the time…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem