My Pen, with one eye on time
Always scribbling down my eyes
My discrepancies, my state of mind
Trying to keep track of my absence
From a place where I'm often blind
Creating incomplete entries
of my enigmatic life
Covered in rime
My days are nights
Who can vouch for existence?
Who can prove reality?
You, me and these manganese fields
Where we are constantly mapping
Our breath routines
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem