Penetrating endeavors are yielding to whimsical
fancies while life falls into one abyss after
another.
Searching for nondescript images, hoping to find at
least a little one to continue wandering earth on a
quest of anticipatory worth.
Scratching surfaces, wrinkled with age, foraging
depths, seeking revenge.
All proof of existent policies is waylaid in final
storms of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem