Sound, 2 A.M. Poem by Dan Chiasson
Sound, 2 A.M.
A minute ago I was a child coughing: having had
too much of everything today, except for air.
Now I am an animal, feeling, tonight, perplexed—
I fled the outside, the cold, the lack of food;
I meant to enter a house, which I connect with warmth,
which my body told me was the appropriate move.
Instead I entered a person's mind. Like the child,
I am trapped: I have no will, no life to call my own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/15/2024 12:57:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
