do i have a right to be lonely
when you cling to scraps of love?
what grounds do i have to be tired
when unknown peace waits me at home?
you're in my head, you ocean queens,
you pool-stick cowboys, artisans-
you're in my head, my ears, my hands-
you give the why for waking up,
the how for pressing on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is pretty much your best so far farris...it helps that I know the backround a little bit but I think it's very powerful even without. -landrey