As I lay I write, as I write I sleep
My pen on paper, my eyes take a peep
From their closed shells into the darkness deep
Blowing, blowing, cool breeze blows me to sleep.
Weary and tired, this new heat drains me
Of water and tears, my enzymes singing
Kiss my paper in a nod too many
How can I sleep while I am hot and hungry.
So if I write some more I shall stop there
Maybe tomorrow someone might show care
Or maybe on this same path I shall tread
I now beg, 'Insomnia may I be spared? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem