the day never starts
but one wakes at leisure
with no measure of time but hunger
and food is eaten as an animal may eat
simply in the body’s need;
one licks one’s fingers at the end
and pulls up one’s pants
and scratches one’s forearms;
and happenings amuse one
and one’s actions are like the movement of grass;
and simple pleasures prick one’s skin and mind
and one knows it is night
only because the shadows lead to darkness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your poem reveals a shadowy truth...good work...i liked...10