I should have taken the clothes out
before depositing my books in the
closet, now books and clothes are
heaped together and I can’t find a
thing; there are even books under
the bed; I’m scared you’ll throw
the dog-eared and dishevelled books
away if I leave them in the open –
but digging for clothes I scattered
the books; what a fearful mess in
my closet – it’s scary; next thing a
Bogeyman will move in – what
shall I do then?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem