Everything that is repeated
is numbing the senses
flattens our energy into a plateau
where we then think that
there is nothing to challenge us
anymore
happiness can be boring too
and we travel to look for sorrow
and when sorrow is there
everyday in that plains where
there are only stones and grass
no signal for the phone
and even if you are with someone
who tickles your heels
where Achilles dwells
the stupor comes like an
enemy uninvited to your party
that night
sorrows come like a parade of
sad beauties and you begin to love
each of them
and there is a time when happiness
comes too
it is surprising, you don't like it
anymore
perhaps, you have changed
into a practical man now
delving on the reality of the masses
where you are a stone in that pavement
of everydayness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem