Sitting here, thinking about everything
And nothing. Wishing that there was a spark,
A source of joy, for me to feel...alive.
Ah, but then the spark comes, then leaves rather
Quickly. Now, I'm sitting here. Still wishing.
Still thinking futilly. I don't mind, i can take it.
I'll just sit here on this lonely day sparkless.
Sparkless yes, sparkless, but happy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem