I.
before me door
they are glasses and
I can see everything.
I don't only remember,
where keys got lost...
I am waiting when fever passes
And am waiting,
when finally fever will pass...
she is troublesome.
hands are icy...
and in a minute warm, not hot.
my head is rebelling against me.
it is kind of heavier...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem