It would be slantingly odd
To wake one afternoon
And not feel macabre
I’m not the slightest bit scared
I dream up these things all the time
And I always pull through
Around the middle of the day
When I try my damnedest
To live the life
But I pretty much always end up
Slipping through by the time I fall asleep
Having the same thought as I did
When I woke up
And all night long my dream
Just keeps on coming true
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is certainly an odd writing about the macabre. Here is a writer who dreams all day and night. Whether awake or asleep, he seems to have the thoughts of the dream that comes true. I don't envy anyone like this. I would be scared. But, better him than me. I'm satisfied just to read about them. So, write those down, you may have a novel. GW62