it alone in yourself this way didn't come into existence,
and suddenly it seems to us, that past, it is still counting,
but, now already to turn back the time, you know it certainly,
its no longer will give, it isn't possible
you feel, when you willing to feel, and null more
the time there is no role, is playing nothing,
are only being increased - between - space
and nothing here don't already, have to the fulfilment.
there are such moments when think violently
how with the sharp sword it will cut air
and you feel the edge cutting
in two somewhere on in half throats, deep - skin.
the words trodden down, a smile insincere,
of this tenderness disgusting.
concern, but not about one`s 'pillowcase'
the other people's property is beautiful - and the rumour is feeding
you cannot look, and you are observing
you cannot listen - and you have the 'donkey-ears'
and the lost life is yours in the crowd
is that why you must live another person's life?
I am telling you...Margaret...'it isn't worthwhile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good! It is worthwhile reading. I like it. Dagmara Anna