sleep too is an illusion
and there are so many of them
the sleep that is cruel
when we needed it
it leaves us
staring to the ceiling
the sleep that rocks us like
babies to loving mothers
who does not want to have them
and remember them
once again?
that sleep that takes us
and never returns us
that rest that we soon shall have
but we keep on postponing
the inevitable
that closes our eyes and never opens
them ever again....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem